River out of Eden

I was running up the riverbed dry

She was naked lying in her bed

Her stones had not bled, and she could not cry

Her dress of water was locked in store

And she was cold lying on the floor

 

I ran up the Biddle combe brook

And it gave to me a sideways look

Who are you to trample on my bones?

Can't you see I lie alone

 

I need no other to claim my throne

Or cast about my care-worn stones

I am nature the mother grown

But no other shall me own

 

And in ripples and in childish tides

Her water dress trickled down over her thighs

And filled the dry bed where once she was wed

With its web-locked fingers, and its fluidity spread

And curled in crispness of a fresh salad bed

 

And I leapt like a monkey out of her flow

Her water cress dress would have swallowed me whole

In her water-caress I was a fungi

And I could listen to her glamorous story

Glistening soft as a velvet Jew’s ear

Of how she joined the Gulf stream

To travel away for a year

 

But she returned in the rain clouds

Heavy and all out of sorts

He had left her near the Isle of Iona 

For a Madagascan or Chilean sport

 

So she returned to her hilly spring 

She dressed herself in black,

And she lay in ground waters low in the basin

Of the Mendip hill's cavernous crack

 

She stayed like a widow in mourning 

She lay in a suicide pact

With the stalactites and stalagmites adorning

Her chamber of echoing fact

She called to her own deep reflection

And she spoke with the mirror of the cave

And it said you are the source on inspection

It is only from you we can make waves

 

So, go out into the world once again

When the cold air will not turn you to ice

And be like the river of Eden

That runs out through paradise