In the stream stood a heron.
A white one, delicate and dainty.
Wading amidst the flowing stream.
Above it's pretty head hung the bough of a bright green tree,ornate leaves.
It was illuminated by dancing sunlight in the early morn.
About nine I believe.
The bus trundled on, on my right hand side stood pink candlestick flowers, appearing waxen.
The light, it hurt my eyes.
The morning after the night before,everything strikes mine eyes vividly.
Noticed nature at it's best.
Then I slept.
(c)LIVVI