A moorhen floating near silently by

Rustling through rushes and reeds

Ripples reflecting the sky

The damselflies shimmering iridescent blue wings

Catching the sunlight like a precious jewel

Alighting and lifting, only resting momentarily

Towering eucalyptus sentinels

Shedding their mottled grey brown skin

Blue leaves waving at the passing clouds

Perched comfortably on the stump of a long gone tree

It’s aged rings too numerous to count

Some narrow, some wide

Holding a lifetime of history

People passing, stopping briefly

A white butterfly flutters by

The sky is bright and blue and high

Breeze changes direction so the water spout too

Dropping like rainbows on lily leaves below

Lace wings of the dragonfly so delicately intricate

A nod perhaps to the gowns of young ladies who once strolled by

Shielding pale skins with parasols held high

The velvet bark of the myrtle behind me

Like a young stags horn before the rut

On a shaded bench on the grassy mound

A young mum feeds an infant

Wrapped in a rug and wrapped in each other

Oblivious to all around

Children always seem to find a stick

Some throw, some dip,

for each a moment to connect with the water

as they watch the ripple effect

and the four dolphins, tails held high

the only constant in the passing day.

By Annemaria Corrigan

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