- Fish Pond
- Inside the pond I see the green moss grow
Around the roots and rocks, not far below.
Soft ripples rise from motions down within,
Then, here and there, a colored tail or fin.
My toes agree to share a splash, or two,
With willow tips that stir the glinting blue.
And creeping tendrils stretch a long design,
while I count open blossoms on the vine.
If all my days were just like this, I’d be
A constant sight beneath this shady tree.
Some rain is prudent now and then, my dear,
Without it, I would be forever here.
