What if we paused to watch the hover flies,
just hovering?
Or to investigate the ivy climb,
or look at lichen on the bark?
What if we peered at weeds
more closely,
and found a hedgerow-lightning
flash of flower-star?
What if we remembered childhood days
and wildwood ways
of watching the river flow?
What if gravel beaches,
strange rippling eddies
are where stories begin to grow?
What if we saw the mallard
not as dullard
common water fowl,
but his helm of green
as glossed emerald sheen...
What if, what then, what now?
