Boat Trip

A city sliding serpentine,
the swans upon the Severn stream
towards us sinuous, then curve
away as we draw near to them.
She strokes the river from our boat,
swallows dive then bank and soar
up high to pierce the canopy.
All is floaty, on the bridges
cars and buses undulate
and shimmer in the summer haze.
Fingers circling tiny eddies,
she whispers to me in italics
the world will not stay straight.