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Fisher Tarn


When I rose this early morn

I wondered what the day would bring

The news is sad the weather fine

I think we shall a stroll begin.


We head up north to Fisher Tarn.

It is a fine, dry walk to make .

Steep enough to make one stretch

And places to stop if out of breath


A noble cause the Tarn once filled

to slake our populations thirst.

And now it serves their pleasure still

for walking ,fishing and a place to muse.


Past clumps of sycamores and busy hives we stride.

Fallen pines serving feed for grubs and birds

It is that amazing time of year when bluebells, primroses and celandines

Mingle still in unconscious blush

To make a carpet for those who care to tread

and bend the head.


How good it is at times like this when people grieve and stress expands

That if we take a thought and look

There is so much for us to see and hear

that should make us hope.


If only we can survive the flood

and life can start again.

We can build anew

as Bindloss dreamed so long ago

to bring health, quench thirst and serve the town

In our own ways.


But what is this beside the lake two figures still

Who tempts the fates?

Do they still live?

What do they mean ?

For they are quiet without a move.

We watch a while to check them out .

Before approaching closer to inspect

But no, though very life like, they do not move

They are but models to surprise and make one think

Not to alarm but to amuse.


We continue on through pine and larch

Then suddenly before the southern end

A male roe stands curious.

Friend or foe he seems to say?

What have you learned?

Friend we say and climb the dam

Our stay is over for the day.

We will return again when spirits droop

to drink fresh sights and sounds and thoughts

And to catch again a sight of our new friend

His thought to seek and wisdom learn.

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