She's pointing
at some bird
on a pond
in a wood
half a mile
from the farm

a moorhen
she tells me

it walks odd
I reply

I like it
like its eggs
the colour
she relates

she's happy
her eyes bright

I watch her
her brown hair
the grey dress
the black boots
thin figure

Daddy says
all creatures
are God's gift

she watches
the moorhens
some swimming
some walking

she has fine
bone structure
a fine nose

I guess so
I reply

we walk near
her hand soft
white near mine
close to touch

don't suppose
a London
boy sees them?
she asks me

I haven't
before now
I tell her
just pigeons
and sparrows
in London
except parks
then there's ducks
and such things

she walks near
the pond's edge
be careful
she tells me
a child drowned
here last year

I gaze out
at the pond
imagining
the dead child

my father
said the prayers
at the church
afterwards
very sad
Jane says

she's buried
in the small
church's ground
I’ll show you
when we're there
the next time

I recall
the last time
at the church
in the grounds
watching clouds
overhead
laying down
with the dead.