Willow marionettes dance
waltzing on tender strings
slowly, to the lullaby
of a river breeze.
Gently she calls
siren hidden from sight
by an overhanging fir
dipping its tips in the eddy,
mischievious lure
for a lurking trout.
I stop and listen
a message in the wind
in a language beyond sound
felt and not heard
present, future, distant past
kaleidoscope images stream
maybe, yes, nevermore
a few metres
from tennis courts
filled with people
oblivious to all
but a little green ball.
ml’24
(there is nothing like idling on a river bank just watching the willows dance in the breeze on a sunny Sunday afternoon)