Perfection is a limpid pool
where barely seen life goes,
of dragon flies, capricious wings,
translucent veins in rows
and skimmers dance on rippled swell
take care on tensile skin,
their tiny feet don’t miss a beat
or surely they’d fall in.
A gentle breeze makes waving reeds
almost complete the scene
as paddling foul with innocence
and unknown whence she’s been,
comes gliding over rippled cove
side by mirrored side,
but sees I watch her from above
and admire her aqua glide.
She pauses for an instant
as though posing of a kind.
The moment, just a moment,
recorded in my mind.
Her part in my bush idyll
completed this fine day
and paddling with great purpose
she goes upon her way.