Remembering October (for Nick Drake)

Yellow plane leaves drape the black lip kerb that juts from the towpath in Jesus Green in mid-October; leaves, winded, gracefully slide down, yellow and brown into the glimmerings of river by Jesus Lock. In the mist of my breath that floats out among the heads of passing swans, I see a tall glimmer on the footbridge over the shimmering water, its dark green reflecting fensky afternoon grey on its way to blue. A riverman, watching falling leaves. On the other bank by Chesterton Road, stooping willows rock in gentle jazzy five four, a rhythm played by huge ivory fingers to a strangetuned guitar. Gullglide, high string arco, ending on a note of sustain, suspense, never telling how the river flows. A shadow, a glimmer on the bridge. A watcher, wondering if the riverflow is meant for him.