By the Weir Field

By Ursula Oxley

The day is waning
And all around,
The damp mist rises

The Watercress - not at its best,
And I've left my horse
In a watery field, with a
Far-too-soon-filled Hay-net;

The day is waning
And all around,
The damp mist rises

A Kingfisher rises,
And gently glides
On the heavy air,
And I stand and stare
Then, walk on lightly.
alsford