The stream was transparent
like a sky without a cloud
Reflections were apparent
as fresh as a field just ploughed.
The water trickled, it just fell
as if nothing mattered at all
sweeping across where otters dwell
up to the crashing waters in the fall.
It was delightful, refreshing to hear
crystal clear waters along the verge
creeping gingerly to the weir
where fish peep then submerge.
Bullrushes like brooms stand guard
like soldiers in a regimented row
each having such a high regard
where each plant should grow.
Trees shade the dappled splashes
of the odd little leak
up to where the foamy spray crashes
along the stone lined creek.
Kingfishers, as blue as the sea
cradle their catch for grim death
snuggling up in their nests in the tree
living the moment to catch their breath.
The call of the blackbird with a golden beak
singing for its star in the show
oh if only this gorgeous bird could speak
it would tell you things you know.