Beauty of the Free

Alone as the river water dances over moss fringed rock

Green the tassels on the rodeo riders shirt. 

Damson harlequins in their neon state drift on the lightest breath of a breeze 

Brown trout cool in the shadows lurk,

speckled scales pebble matched perfect. 

The missel thrush, his allegro begins. 

Moist the brown earth, overtones of wild garlic,

linger on the senses, a familiar lover's candid embrace. 

The polished stone sits, moss clear, daring the traveller to tarry. 

Tempting them with cool air over crystal water 

There, in the slow side of the current, where the waters eddy and swirl 

A water boatman nimble of leg his stochastic dance begins

Brown trout’s eyes patiently peruse the menu.

This is my lost place, my sanctuary

Where thoughts are born in the dappled light of a beech.

Imagination boundary free runs wild as leader of the pack

Bumblebee, a lazy drone marks time along the river bank, 

pauses, then begins a new, nature’s chanter of Uilleann pipes. 

In this lost world things makes sense

Time slowed intensity reigns

Senses attuned with the current,

ebb and flow, ebb and flow

Lost peace found in a moment of enlightenment

Saul or is it Paul on my own road to Damascus

Or was it under shade of a banyan tree 

Mount Hira where Jibreel spoke a word.

Thoughts as a flâneur, water keeps flowing

The true countenance of the lost revealed

For within the lost lies the beauty of the free.