Eccup Reservoir

   

Eccup Reservoir

The roads were clear,

until the last junction,

where traffic stopped

still.

He sulked.

“The car will overheat,

it will not function.

A Ford Cortina Mark 1

needs coddling.”

We turned  to go.

Where?

To Eccup Reservoir

where I had walked,

two years ago

by the edge of the water

in the hot July sun.

We zipped down country lanes,

asked ladies in brogue shoes,

directions.

Found nothing but an empty road,

which he said was boring…

nearly stamped his feet in rage.

(Thinking of his Classic Cars).

I said, “We can’t go home,

it’s three o’ clock,

the sun is out and you’ll just moan.

try that way.”

We stopped at a lay by.

A sign signaled footpath.

Up we trekked

his face grim,

but the sun fell softly

between the sycamores and oaks

dappling his face

with light.

He rallied round.