The water ripples like a sea snake
along the edge of the reeds.
All along the tow-path
feet skipping over weeds.
Behind me there’s the sloosh and the chug
of the boat.
I smell tea in a tin mug
and wisps of charcoal smoke.
"There's the spot
throw me the rope".
These dragon flies are so very turquoise
and when I stop to listen now
there is no noise.
There are just the wisps of charcoal smoke.
No more sloosh and chug
of the boat.
I can taste the tea in my tin mug.
Just above the reeds on the tow-path
the sun is setting
with a quiet laugh.
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