The Stream

Endless transient, fractal patterns,
Belie the apparent calm.
Stone weirs play different notes:
A binaural symphony that alters as one turns the head.
Peaceful, yet with a persistent cacophony.
Ripples spread while eddies cause leaves to rebel against the flow.

The air shifts as the trees sing with an unexpected breeze.
The valley seems almost alive in its own right;
A living home to myriad unseen entities.

No stress, no signal.

A dragonfly briefly dazzles with its aerial dexterity.
Perhaps jealous, flies abandon the wing, instead skating abstract routines.
The splash of a jumping fish,
Lost as soon as it is seen, playing hide and seek.
Unimpressed by the flies' attempts at artistry.

A powered paraglider drifts overhead,
A droning reminder of civilisation beyond the hills.

Time is fleeting, time stands still;
The slowly lengthening shadows the only means to mark its passage.

  1. Great to see you writing some poetry, Colin!

    Love this telling line “No stress, no signal.”

    Keep it up.