Drum

River Frome, Bowbridge, late November

I came to the river
looking for something to say,
but the more I tried to form the words
the more they seemed to fall short;
and slowly they let go of their precision,
becoming just sounds, hums -
empty and full of meaning
at the same time,
dropping in volume
until I could hear first the sound of birdsong
and then of water,
and then, underneath it all,
the world, pulsing
like a gentle drum.