Summer sunset stains petal pink waters of Wye,
swans sail slowly to isles of grand dreams,
willows whisper farewells to the dusk darkening sky,
rippling purple and sapphire reams.
All is silent awhile cloaked in shadowy sleep,
rustling reeds rest serenely and still,
’til the hour of the infinite eyes starts to peep,
speckling gold upon river, wood, hill.
Each sphere turns and some harmony hums through the night,
casting smiles on most slumbering souls,
but beneath balmy banks steeped in shining star light,
crabs come crawling from deep hidey-holes.
Scuttling over the shimmering sandgrains ashore,
clapping claws to the rhythm of time,
swaying shells, tapping toes with a one two three four,
they spin shapes while presenting this rhyme:
‘In our homes, in our hearts, oh, how happy are we!,
so we celebrate this in our song,
for our river from source until estuary
we dance gladly in crusty-coat throng.’
Thus the party parades through to roseswept sunrise,
then retreats to the depths of the earth,
as the starry sounds cede to the waterbirds’ cries,
yet revive nights with musical mirth.
* * *
Just another waltzer; I have enjoyed my afternoon off work!
