Picnic at our River?
Myriad of colonies in perfect balance,
the willow a home for Rat.
Threat of bricks and mortar looming.
Printed paper from concrete forests of expansion signal a flood.
But this is ours.
Kingfisher and dogwalker morning greeting;
flashes of electric honesty skimming the shallows of Spring
bringing a gift, an offer of peace and love.
Branches for Poohsticks and fetchsticks,
cascades of murky micro-life
awoken by the doggie paddle and the welly paddle.
Under the bridge, a troll lives.
Echoes of commute rumble
as children paint their hands in water on crumbling brick;
a vanishing spoor, staying just long enough to witness
squeals of delight
at numb toes and floating nature,
a caboodle in grasping fingers.
All too soon an endless day in the sun elapsed
Leave the bridge-dweller’s den…the lender revokes, a mistrust has awoken.
A trudge, a toil, a sorrowful goodbye
to a boundless life veiled once more.