Up there the world is chaotic,

Down here all is calm.

The water flows by in shades of brown and green,

Infused with islands of ice cold glass

Glinting in the early winter sunshine.

 

A flock of white swim by,

Closely followed by a raft of quacks.

Water droplets slide down my sleeve,

As I lift my wooden companion,

Propelling me forwards.

 

Family’s stand side by side along the riverbank,

Tempting the birds with scraps of bread.

They squawk and fight,

Duck-diving for advantage,

And slip to the surface under their opponents beak.

 

I carry on paddling,

Billowing breath from my lungs as I go.

My paddle slices through the water,

Leaving behind mini whirlpools with every stroke.

My canoe slips effortlessly through the water of the Thames

 

Building up speed until I reach the wier.

At the bottom lies perilous white tips,

Swirling violently round and round.

A sweep stroke on my left to turn the vessel around,

Back to where all is calm and still.