Earlswood Lakes On Christmas Morning
Slow, cold fingers
Betray the soul of me;
Gritty mire clings to my shoes
And brushwood, stripped of leaves
Affords dappled glimpses of a breeze-stippled lake
Until a small gap illuminates this tableau,
Accompanied by the shrieks of gulls and coots,
As sullen cormorants, sentinels, linger…
Sluggish heron, grey
Scatters the gulls awry;
Fretting coots cling to the reeds
And branches, bereft of foliage
Offer clear views of a bird-bustling lake
Until a small grebe dives for prey,
Accompanied by the quacks in flight of mallards,
As basking cormorants peruse Christmas Day…
Pete Ray
Earlswood Lakes, 25th December, 2014
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