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cheryl-lovePoems
Strolling beside a stream On a crisp Autumn day The water frothing like cream Getting drenched from the spray. I see a Kingfisher further ahead Perched on an old Oak twig Its breast a bright brick red To offset his very blue wig. The blackbirds sing to me A sweet tune they know They are high in the tree The Kingfisher thinks it’s time to go. The leaves crunch underfoot Delicate veins being crushed. Like Mother Nature’s put Down stuff to be brushed. But the wind blows them to a pile Neatly arranged by the bank In colours in single file Like soldiers in their rank. The stream flows with vigour Taking no prisoners, no stone turned The force, compelling rigour Another penny earned.
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Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 12:20 PM UTC
Strolling Beside A Stream
Strolling beside a stream On a crisp Autumn day The water frothing like cream Getting drenched from the spray. I see a Kingfisher further ahead Perched on an old Oak twig Its breast a bright brick red To offset his very blue wig. The blackbirds sing to me A sweet tune they know They are high in the tree The Kingfisher thinks it’s time to go. The leaves crunch underfoot Delicate veins being crushed. Like Mother Nature’s put Down stuff to be brushed. But the wind blows them to a pile Neatly arranged by the bank In colours in single file Like soldiers in their rank. The stream flows with vigour Taking no prisoners, no stone turned The force, compelling rigour Another penny earned.
Written by
cheryl-love
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 12:20 PM UTC
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