THE BROOK Copyright © 2009 Kaaren Whitney

Jumping on the huge inner tube
affords me with a bird's eye view
of frog eyes under the brook's bank
glimpsed briefly on my every up.

tumbling water, cool, clear and clean,
single-stone bridge, floating green fronds,
bank sliding rocks, sand silt bottom,
side snagged twigs, sheltering tadpoles.

The pop of my bouncing rhythm,
the song of the water's gurgle:
both outreach the slimier sound
of snails sliding across the lawn.

tumbling water, cool, clear and clean,
single-stone bridge, floating green fronds,
bank sliding rocks, sand silt bottom,
side snagged twigs, sheltering tadpoles.

How can they be so inconsiderate today?
She sees the girl hopping on the giant tyre,
remembers her boy who would have enjoyed just that;
she sees the sun as yellow in the open sky,
remembers the almost black engulfing ocean;
she sees the brook flowing at a slow easy pace,
remembers the sea as it sucked her son away.