by Kevin Pyne

Is it the wild ferocious clear clean water?
Or is it pure adventure calling me
For I like to slip in upon
The upland water as it is
Gathered into the moors
From upland Tors
Before rushing from the earths table
Towards what is our mutual destiny?

Now some may well see me as crazy
And some then think that I am mad
But the power within the breathing heart
Of a great and rapid river
Gives to me the greatest thrill as I paddle
That I truly feel I was born to have

Now some were born to garden
Or even to spread and die by the TV
Yet I ride and toss and roll all upon
The living river
So as to appease and yet keep alive
That which is the adventurer within me