Rippling reflections in glassy pools,
of brilliant gold drapes in the shades cool.
Sparkling pale pebbles,
a birds twittering song,
a high clear note sweet and long.
Soft textured grass, tough bark on trees.
Kneeling right down on my knees,
Weaving and braiding a posy chain,
Awaiting the chilled fall rains.
Scooping up a handful of soft moist dirt,
The sun so bright my eyes blink with hurt.
Lying on my belly,
watching clouds float down the stream.
Copyright 2011 Abigail Chapman
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