The Weaver at Dusk

Today she is a silk kimono, dyed
in blueberry sky and apricot sun.

The road bridge is her sash.
Trees soften in the river’s print,

tame as bonsai. A duck  ploughs
upstream unzipping this dress

that has no fasteners, then drifts.
Longing floats me to pedal

beside the shining geisha girl  
away to Frodsham or Weston 

where she wears the chainmail
of the windswept Mersey.

I seek Kawa No Kami, pray she
will find me the river’s heart.


Helen Kay