The Dargle River

View of The Dargle River and People’s Park

The Dargle River

I did not live in country places

Where God hides in trees and bushes;

I looked for all my answers

In small streets of grey houses.

I saw mysteries in pavement cracks,

And dusty orphaned leaves of grass

In unswept corners and crevices,

Defying brick and mortar to the last.

I remember standing knee high

In the flood of a small town river,

A baptism of unforgettable joy

I raised my face to heaven,

Where dock and nettle swarmed

And wagtails danced by singing water

That tumbled riotously through rusty spokes

Of an old wheel long discarded.

                                      Dermot McCabe

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One thought on “The Dargle River

  1. Wow, Dermot! Wife and daughter in tears of joy. Could never describe it to them as you have. The blessings of all be upon you. (I still remember your Pilgrim’s Progress essay before any of us had ever heard of it. And the Triumph!)

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