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These lyrical poems, like the cloud river of the title, are a 'journey down a length of weather-music'. Set in a level landscape of corners and lines (on fields, maps, the sky and the page), they generate beautiful surprises. They see a passing plane as 'the polished arrow of a plough', and teach us how to read cloud language. Through a fresh appreciation of England's lowest and newest landscape, they exemplify how engagement with straight rivers and big skies leads to a balancing of spirit.
Charles Bennett writes so beautifully: a poet who really seems to have his own kingdom, with its quiet moments, of sun, fruit and weather, which he catches with a peculiar loveliness.
It’s difficult to imagine poems that listen more closely than these to the ‘green music’ of the natural world.