excerpt from From the Hills to the City – Nicola Longworth-Cook

The Town Bridge is grey with the flood-left sludge of January.
Subsiding now, the Severn still pushes past
Whole willow trees trapped broadside between stone pier and abutment.
Where the channels narrow, khaki water surges recklessly fast,
But the swans ride the flow, unconcerned.
They return to the cricket ground steps, flood wandering done
Over burst banks, paddled past Brown’s –
Nearly up to the Glover’s Needle this time round.

In the riverside car park
I find a silty space beneath a great viaduct arch,
Underside brickwork sooted black and streaked white with leached salts.
Empty nest holes between bricks await the house martins’ return
Unafraid of heights, the aerial buddleia is budding already
Overhead the Hereford to Birmingham train’s,
Shunting steel wheels rumble and screech.

I turn to walk towards town
Past concrete benches where we sat on
Hot summer days on workshop breaks, laughing, just us.
Some days the Hive is a flashy gold crown
Glinting against blue sky.
Today though she is bronze, hunkered down
Full of focus, busy study, modern industry.