Mudlark Memory

Dwelling on my last mudlarking session yesterday, made me write this, and I thought I'd share.

Mudlark Memory

River-side, city-sounds

Recede and all is water,

And mud, and smell of river & clay.

History is underfoot;

I trod on pipestems, and dinner plates,

Roof tiles and old pins,

Bottles and buttons, hundreds of years

Discarded and turned to

Slippy footings in the mud.

Swells from river traffic wash

And swash and reveal and conceal.

I’m lost in the scent & grit & grease of history,

Fragments of past humanity overwhelming

The stress of the current grind

And I am washed in the ever-rushing tide

Of past peoples’ lives.

Tracey Ernst

Aug 8/13