At The Marsh And Lake In The Morning Poem by Gert Strydom

The flaming sun hang over the lake like an orange balloon,
in the twilight the picture was too perfect for a cartoon.

Slowly almost regal the stork did arrive from the west
landed on its stick like long legs before motionless it came to rest,
for minutes with a clicking sound it did call to a mate
but nothing of it took any kind of interest.

A mother of some African red-knobbed coots waded in
checked her chicks before the swimming did begin.

A slight wind was swishing some of the reeds to and fro
while weavers chattered and much whiter the sun did glow
and slowly I walked nearer to the little lake and marsh,
towards the idyllic piece of Eden that I did know.

Black long-tailed widow birds were flying almost hanging slow,
almost gliding along the reeds where the river did flow,

suddenly hadedah ibises landed at the edge of the shore
where they did sparkle like red-brown copper ore,
in a thin line started pecking at earthworms and snails
but then a Egyptian goose noticed me and nothing was like before.

In red and yellow lines the weavers twittering flashed away
and the widow birds disappeared from where they did play.

Screeching the ibises with great effort took to the sky
while running on the water the coots did prepare to fly
some guinea fowl chattered like a rusty swinging gate
and totally alone at the lake and marsh was I.