Reflections.

Follow the path

through the bushes

to the lake,

On from the shore,

the white heron's awake

To swim in cool ripples

of the freshening dawn.

And linger and caress,

already its morn'.

Follow the path

through the rushes

to the reeds,

Wade 'cross the streams,

the kingfisher feeds

To lie on soft mosses,

the nearby ditches,

And speak for this moment,

pleasure and riches.

Follow the path

through the haze

to the hills,

Up over the grass,

the gilt falcon thrills 

To stumble on cracks

in the scorching earth,

And look at this distance;

peace mixed with mirth.

Follow the path

through the crags

to the peaks,

Ascending the ridges,

the mountain goat seeks

To battle on ice

in the glistening snows,

And reflect at this beauty,

you're dizzy, HE knows.

Follow the path

through the trees

to the pools,

Down past the land

the silver trout rules,

To dance on rocks

in the midday sun,

And rest from this journey,

- please don't run.

Follow the path

through the dunes

to the sea,

Seeking the stones

where the large crab must be

To splash in the water

of the advancing tide,

And wonder does the Maker

watch the white horses ride?

Follow the path

through the caves

to the cliffs,

Stroll in the breeze

watch the butterfly's tiffs

To laze on ledges

in those hidden embraces,

And kisses too many,

my the heart races.

Follow the path

through the valley

to the fields,

Passing the cranny

the raven ne'er yields

To tremble on clover

in the midst of dreams,

And enchanted, delighted,

we're lost, (in love), so it seems

Follow the path

through the meadows

to the slopes

Dodging the thicket

where the wild dog mopes

To recline on the banks

in the afternoon light,

And gaze at this nothing,

sweetness so bright.

Follow the path

through the wood

to the glades,

By all the nooks

where the fairy queen shades

To dance on loam

'neath the hidden skies,

And rejoice at seclusion,

the truth somewhere lies.

Follow the path

through the bracken

to the rills.

Trickling by stones

where the ruddy fox kills

To fall down in ferns

in that shady spinney,

And slumber in shelter,

serene and so happy.

Follow the path

through the gorse

to the moors.

Away on the heath

whence the skylark soars

To loiter in dells

'til the evenings' lights dimmed,

And wander back home,

at peace with your world.

Charles Loft.