A pool of many personalities.
Its winter water takes a earthy shade
Of darkened substance, solid, birds can wade
Upon its surface, under weary trees.
Last month it shivered, sharp, began to freeze
And whilst the shrieking scarf-wrapped children played,
Across it’s face an ice-white mask was laid,
Its morgue-like stillness made us ill at ease.
But soon the hope of life will bud and spring,
The water turn, aping the light’ning skies,
And nests constructed, frisky foul will play.
Look, summer migrants come on tired wings!
Descend, this paradise their temporary prize,
For now, its Janus face, a place to stay.
Today, as is often our practice, we went for a stroll around Lea Valley’s lakes. These water filled pits are constantly fluid, their faces changing with the season. Today they were dark and moody, matching their muddy banks. Another sonnet.
© Ben Quant 2023