By Rosie Hart

This river is relentless,

An ancient toddler 

in the eye of a never ending tantrum, 

A stray skulking foreign woods

frothing at the mouth,

A drunk football fan 

spitting and tumbling.

Hurling fish,

Shoving at boulders,

Hissing at passersby.

I came here to find peace,

Instead I leave unsettled –

charged with fury and

something like an unshakeable confidence to demand.