Beck Variation

Standing in my wellies beside the beck,
I note its most mellifluous applause,
how it falls two feet
into a sound as sweet
as a kettle drum’s metal petals
of silver bliss that blossom
on a carnival’s street.

Further to distil the air in the mind,
I wait, to obviate not titivate,
and notice the green kingdom all around.

A squadron of nettles guards the wild.
It must be so different from living
in Norman Nicholson’s Millom,
down the end of Rottington Road.
A lone bird pipes a bar in a tree.

Then I notice I need to pee.
So into the heavenly nectar I do.
H20 might stand for Hypothalamus Tattoo.

John F.B. Tucker

If you have any thoughts about this poem,  John F.B. Tucker would be pleased to hear them