Contemplation 3

The skiff shivers slices through the water

Cutting into the cooling smoothing surface

And setting the shining shape in motion

Through the stream.

Perambulating grandparents who have seen it all before

See it again from the river’s pathway

And wonder if it is to be the last time

They see anything so beautiful, so latent, so perfect.

Ghosting over the surface

Rowers’ muscles tighten and release

In unison.

Drips glistening,

The lazy stroke transformed into

Forward flow.  

A line of liquid splashes off the dipping edge

Leaves a track that holds its shape for an instant

And is gone.

They pause the pushchair

Think about saying something to help

The child to see, to observe,

And anyway, they realise it is too young to see, to notice

To yearn as they do for another moment like this.

Another day, another month, another year.

They look down and

realise the child is fast asleep.

Wrapt in dreams, eyes locked internally

The infant contemplates blithe impossibility.

Smiling, they leave the blissful stillness uninterrupted.

Behind them,

Some Mandragora uprooted by a dog

Lies on the path as they head for home.