Kingfisher

Sitting by the lake
Under a willow tree.
Rain begins to fall,
Sending circles of ripples
Across the water.
The day is warm
But grows increasingly grey.
Then,
A flash of turquoise and amber
In the corner of my vision.
I follow it, flying low and fast,
Barely skimming the water’s surface
Before disappearing among the reeds.
For a brief moment
I’m in on the secret;
Illusive beauty,
The kingfisher’s flight.

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