Weir

Lowland rivers are lazy rivers,
sliding along between sinuous silty banks.
The cheerful babbling brook
and thunder of rocky-strewn rapids are not for us flatlanders.
Man-made structures divert the placid river,
Weirs and locks providing a sudden change of gradient.
The smooth water glides towards the drop,
and spirals down over verdant weed,
foaming and bubbling where it falls.
We stand mesmerised by the movement and noise,
a faint echo of the waterfalls of the west
that we knew when we were young.