Breathe in, breathe out,
the River Fowey,
absorbing every ebb and flow,
like the artery of a heart in slow motion.
We sleep upon its hilly vessel,
Breathe in, breathe out.
Those rhythms and ripples of oceans far,
that resonate from lunar chambers,
delivering waves of inspiration
throughout our grassy ponderer,
from whence ideas come to grow.
The River Fowey,
tide high, tide low,
through ebb and flow,
they raise, they rot, they recompose.