She has burst her banks,
She is very wet today;
Isis flows everywhere.
Isis is reaching for Nuit;
water levels rise higher.
Dawn arrives before the Sun‚s chariot,
Nuit is moved by her daughter - overnight labour.
She reaches down, clouds descend
haze engulfs the land of the Ox.
Mist and river meet, sisterly gossip follows.
Swans and ducks swim where a week ago
the footballers played.
Ducks in the rugby field cheer
the swans in the football pitch paddling
between the goal posts.
A feathered goal keeper
in the game of Isis v Ox.
There will be no Oxen fording today.
Bridges surrounded by water,
wooden islands with no visible paths
of entry or escape,
Footpaths, tow paths, deer tracks
all are submerged,
a highway for the fishes.
Only a single path remains,
one made by Man
from stone, rock and sweat.
The path is just visible above the water line,
like a water snake swimming in the Isis.
Walking on this narrow path,
or is it walking on water?
Through the mists of Oxon.
Heading towards the dawn,
which appears at the end of the golden path.
Nuit leaves her daughter, mists disappear,
as the sun begins its daily journey across the sky;
but Isis keeps on rising up heavenward,
this time reaching for her lover; Sol.
Sol-Osiris too is reaching for her
with his penetrating rays.
His reflection is engulfed by her,
a fiery globe floating in the river of space,
together bringing nourishment to the land of Ox.
It‚s going to be a beautiful day
on the Port Meadow sea front.
All photos by Nabarz (c).
Note: as I finished writing this prose and headed back from Port Meadow
along the towpath, I ended up accidentally ankle deep in the river on
one of
the flooded paths. Moral of the story: you can‚t write about a flood
and not
get wet!
http://www.myspace.com/nabarz
