Falls Of Lora: New Moon Poem by Sally Evans

The falls of Lora spin
rapids in a flat sheet of water
where the Loch runs to the sea
and hits the tide.‭

‬Come between moons
and you will see turbulence, ‭
‬whirlpool and eddy
where sills like glass pour down, ‭

‬the surface gives inches
and ripples determine direction
with circular doubt.‭ ‬You will walk
on slippery grass and rock‭

‬where rowan and brambles
and a crabapple tree
separate the small car park
from sloped bridge hinterland.‭

‬Directly above the falls
the road bridge made from a rail bridge
takes unheeding traffic north.‭
‬For Lora has few addicts.

But come at the new or full moon
to the point of tide-race
and you will know white water
window framing the surface‭

‬you will see photographers
creep beyond bounds
or scale bridge-ponts
to secure a shot, ‭

‬canoeists race the breaking waves, ‭
‬aficionados hang back by the cars
aware of a rare sight
that will crowd memories, ‭

‬or if you are lucky
it will be a secret meeting, ‭
‬you alone with
the inexplicable tide.