Blue, Green, Red and Purple: Idyll
After the rain, after the whoosh and the swirling roar settles to a splashing, sparkling, twisting, eager, forward-facing, knowing-where-it’s-going sort of stream, after a while when a cookaburra appears…
Betty Collins writes of an idyllic time.
after the rain and
after the heavy flow in the creek
after the muddy rush has swept away
last year’s leaves and the ball lost in the long green grass of the summer:
after the whoosh and the swirling roar settles to a splashing, sparkling,
twisting, eager, forward-facing, knowing-where-it’s-going sort of stream:
and after I’ve washed my face, and eaten an apple,
but before the sun has quite gathered it’s wits
I walk down through the still wet grass
slide down the muddy bank
and stand on a big stone at the water’s edge.
After a while,
a cookaburra appears on a branch above me
and starts laughing.
