The Paddling Pool.

Leaves decorate its surface
Like tiny bobbing boats,
Hands swish the clear water
Against a background of blue paint;
Tips of seedheads from the Sycamore trees,
Float their aeroplane wings.
Always in shade
This edge of the pool
Gathers the year's dusty weather
In its gully.
Trousers rolled, skirts tucked into knickers,
The children paddle;
Not minding the stone sharps
Beneath feet.
Gritty from recent storms,
It is still a delight
Under the trees
In the evening sun.

Cassiobury Park in the 1970's
By Mary Kearns