Lunch at the Who’d Have Thought It,
The cosy pub in Milton Combe,
Then on to Lopwell Dam
This glorious afternoon.
We walked up to the causeway
And watched the water glide
Over dam and under footpath
To join the receding tide
The thundering roar of rushing water
Made a near deafening sound
My gaze, fixed on the waterfall
Held me utterly spellbound.
I last walked its length
Way back when, many years ago,
Along the narrow slippery patch
When I was not alone.
Swans swam proudly along the edge
In a dignified royal display,
Defying hidden currents
With unseen effort to stay that way.
The promise of spring rid not the chill from my heart,
But after a long wintry spell,
the daffodil yellow in the wild-flower meadow gave hope,
Though the trees looked barely well.
Their ghostly branches daubed the woodland
An arid haze of grey.
Not a single leaf in sight,
Will the bluebells bloom in May?
The weir’s white wall of foaming water
Crashed onto salmon ladder steps
And downstream the river Tavy
Boulders littered the river’s bed.
As the low tide drains the estuary,
It bares its undulant features
Of sculpted rock and shifting sands
Home to many creatures.
The salty and freshwater marshes,
The highs and lows of coastal tides
The grass and ancient woodlands,
Cast Lopwell in a hallowed light.
I looked to see the wild fowl
And waders of the muddy flats,
But for some noisy geese
No sign of egrets yet.
What of the kingfisher ‘s blue
Flash past while busy hunting?
It may be hiding biding its time
Till the next flood tide comes in.
Did you know otter, salmon, grey seal
And the fluttering fritillary,
Are all at one time or other
Enchanted visitors like me?
Soon, luscious greens and rainbow colours
Will adorn the bank’s feminine curves
And I shall be back exploring
This sanctum of wildlife preserve.