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Sun sparkling, dappling through the verdant trees,
Water rounding boulders before moving on its way
Bobbing along a few fallen brilliant green leaves
Smiling back enjoying the beauty of the day,
Listening to the stream tumbling over the steps of a weir
Splashing and crashing with stunning force,
Restfulness washes over me and I feel a tear
Of joy as the river ignores me and follows its course.
I stand and I stare enthralled absorbed as I spy,
A few tiny fish flashing through the stream
Rising to gobble up some midges or a fly
Insects skim the surface. I take time to think, to dream
No traffic noise, no blasting music intrudes,
Nature is king, I am the guest in this pleasant wilderness
A brief interlude but the meaning eludes
My seeking mind, as I imagine this tiny idyll limitless
Without the paths on its banks worn by man,
Without the buildings lurking behind the leafy curtain
What if the concrete weir steps did not span
The babbling river and constrict it to a certain
Route and flow? What if the Isle was as before we came
No roads, no houses, no sign of our ever living there
My thoughts fail to picture the perfection of this game
It cannot truly imagine anything so fair.
The water tumbles on oblivious of my wistful musing
I return to my friend to chat of unimportant things
But one thought lingers with the river’s peace refusing
And that thought flitters by on its own wings
To recreate the Isle in far distant times
When Mannahan Mac Lir ruled its shores
And the Faery frolicked in its lush climes
The water flows on, unwilling to settle old scores.