The Pond in our Garden
Gault faced sturgeons bend in wide tidal rituals,
Clicking their eyes with a slow precise searching;
Better if everybody had remained quiet, watchful, terse.
Sublime serenity in the lurking murk of river bed waters,
A fat child's toe pebbles into the deep, worm wriggling;
The sturgeons philosophise and stutter out of place, cursing.
Jade flautist like flourishes shimmer from the tension above,
Each girdled to a woven translucent thread, almost bound;
A flickering angler peers with ravenous patience at the deep shrouds.
A fat gnat tickles the ambient surface theatre boards and goes,
Flows away through the salty marsh air and falling orb sunset;
A tossed aside dirhem sparkles in cosmic watery wonderment and settles.
We brewed an entire summer just splashing and laughing,
Making jest with a flippant aquatic loveliness that still lingers;
The sturgeon still pause in mid thought, chasing the cold silvery rays.