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.