Tollymore Forest Park

by Alan Gillis

Grumbulous midges would hover
still in a galaxy of minor rage
by the riverside, the river relaxed
from a distance but swiftraced,

burbleflowed in glutstreams of torrent
when I’d draw near to its peacock
tail of reflection, sauntering through
conifer shadow and butterstreaks

of light as if suspended in time, though
all swayed in motion, and now there’s no way
of nesting back in that barkmust and water
light deep in the ferns, that rushed and slow flow.