Water-rings,
concentric,
lapping out full of sun,
swirling with summer flowers,
scents and herbs.
Ducks dabbling,
pike lurking in shady pools
among weedy roots,
voles plopping quickly into the stream,
Bronte singing rhymes,
skipping off into halcyon dream,
beneath the pollarded willows,
like mole,
delirious with discovery.
The river beckoning,
exciting,
from Eden
its mystery calling out,
to the dreamy Water Rat,
spellbound
with the voice of Pan.
Childhood ears and eyes
filled with sparkles, bubbles and chatter:
with stories, that flutter away
like whispers in the reeds,
yet lingering still
on the edge
of adult perception,
in the mind of one
who thankfully,
comprehended
the reason why.
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