Twenty miles of absolute manna! From West Willoughby near Grantham, it wends its way through Lincolnshire's swifts and swains before announcing itself to Sleaford where it miraculously splits into two! It reunites at Cogglesford before hooking up to the artery of the River Witham near South Kyme.

An endless source of inspiration, walking along the banks of the Slea hand in hand with precious  memories -- that translates into verse that I would love to share with good friends...

Along the Slea - Part 1, The Swans

The beauty of nature how softly it spoke

a bowl of seven cygnets as grey as smoke

but from the scent of the reeds the fox read the signs

...mother leads the way followed by six perfect lines

now a pike lingers in the weeds waiting for a stray

the Slea giveth and the Slea taketh away

mother now sternly tells them not to dive

"stay close to me if you want to stay alive"

but up in the sky it's a strange world all around

the buzzard it dropped without making a sound

so summer passed by on the wings of a kite

as four young cygnets gradually turned white

with lifted wings crying "we're cygnets no more!"

with slender necks demanding to level the score

their nest became a ruin of reed and time

nature took their siblings yet committed no crime.

 

For any Squirel

I sensed motion out of the corner of my eye

a flicking bushy tail heading for the sky

scurrying up the trunk of an old oak tree

this acrobatic rodent defies gravity

your snap decisions are always precise

leaping from branches without thinking twice

balance has never been an issue at all

scampering along fences with no fear of a fall

searching for those nuts you've buried in the ground

busy rotating hands going round and round

I offer you a nut but you wont take one yet

aware of my presence and percieved as a threat

energetic rodent you will soon be my friend

when this opression finally reaches its end

when edenic beauty embraces the land

... in that day you will eat out of my hand.

Along the Slea -  Part 2, The Mandarin

You don't belong here all the other birds said

even Heron looked twice before shaking his head

now the river flows under the bridge with a sigh

I never did see the Mandarin and I never knew why

the Mallards were jealous of its metallic blue and green

Moorhens moved on and pretended they hadn't seen

time after time I would walk along the Slea

but the Mandarin would never show itself to me

one final time I went down to have a look

this was like the end of a chapter in a book

the car driver wasn't to blame, how could that be

when the duck had mistaken tarmac for the Slea

so now the Mandarin will never be there

he met his end but does anybody care

the glory of creation is abundant all around

someone up above knows every bird that hits the ground.

Ode to Ducks ( for Roland )

See the happy ducks glide down the calming stream

the Slea flows onward rendered sweet by time

on a well trodden path with a cheerful team

all on different stages of lifes long climb

then the first cool breath of autumn came

waves of happy chatter still hung in the air

clouds are filling the sky that night will reclaim

so we handle fragile matters with prayer

it's frantic below but calm on the water

our well oiled feathers help us to be wise

when this evil world gives us no quarter

talk with your hands but smile with your eyes.

Along the Slea - Part 3, The Butterflies

A tumbling blue thread flows through Lincolnshire's fields

every spring the scent of cut grass it yields

where barley bows its head and the sheep even listen

and the leaves on tbe banks begin to glisten

Holly Blues are now courting in the midday heat

pinned to the air beside the riverside seat

the Slea's ne'er in a rush and we should be the same

walk on slowly by and play nature's waiting game

of African shores the Painted Lady sings

the longest journeys are made by the lightest things

weighing less than a breath on a cold window pane

joyfully declaring independence from Spain

then as august slowly leans towards september

Tortoiseshells revive every dying ember

we still don't fear winter with its sharp knife

as beauty always adorns the simple things in life.

For a Grey Wagtail

Chattering like youths in undulating flight

that looping the loop was an awesome sight

your peers eat mere worms and insect fayre

yet you catch damsels as they fly through the air

then hop back to the vantage point of a nearby rock

to plan your next sortie and feed your young stock

cataracts of grey in a yellow cascade

now appointed Queen of the fashion parade!

Along the Slea - Part 4, The Kingfisher

You don't hear him coming no announcements are made

you can sit there for hours yet be pleased that you stayed

rivers with Kingfishers are privileged indeed

"it's an honour for the Slea" the wise owl decreed

how humble is the Slea, not much wider than a gate

dog walkers are oblivious, have I got here too late?

To see the living jewell needs patience it would seem

the flash of a dart was like a memento from a dream

he came without warning where the willow dips her hair

bringing the Slea to life with a metallic flare

the space between a heartbeat almost too fast to see

to the heron it seemed like an avian grand prix

only twenty miles from the Witham to its source

so gentle by nature the Slea keeps a steady course

now four more little pearls are being fed on the nest

this wonderful river will be eternally blessed.

Walking with nature

See the dappled sunlight as it shines through the trees

as your skin is soothed by the soft evening breeze

the leaves on the path make it smooth for your feet

away from the world and its venemous heat

creation harmoniously works together

while mankind's world is at the end of its tether

I'm just a guest, I don't want to invade your space

especially when I see what you've done to this place

though when you walk with nature there's good things ahead

so clear your mind and put your problems to bed

you could be the only one hear midst many shades of green

to witness the harmony of many things unseen

I could hear the birds singing but couldn't see them today

but the peace of the Slea just made me want to stay

I went to look for butterflies but there was nothing on the shelf

I suppose the only thing I really found was myself

Along the Slea - Part 5, The Banded Demoiselles

So please Mr Demoiselle, 

tell me, where can you be found?

Just before summers height

before the wind is around

do you know,

who gave you the shadow on your wings?

well I know that,

Wisdom's father created all things

don't you feel so small,

with just a little territory on a leaf?

Well you're a fine one to talk

with all of your issues and grief!

Please tell us what we can do,

to draw a line in the sand -

just write some poetry 

that the Slea can understand

so how do you find a mate,

when noone like you is to be seen?

No problem,

I just look for quivering wings of green

but will you ever stop flying,

so that I can photograph you?

Mmm... to me you're just a shadow

so I'll fly around you too!

Sunset over Haverholme

When the sun set over Haverholme

we realised we were free

amber filled fields and hedges

as we walked along the Slea

the Slea will always be there

and we will be there too

not a farewell just a parting

the sky is a forgiving blue

the day had not yet ended

when the sun began to fall

when the sun set over Haverholme

the day hadn't ended at all.

see you on the Slea🦋