A Creaking Blue Door Poem by Mark Heathcote

I recall a lake, waters emerald
sunlight glinting, and in every corner
a school of fish, I'd sit like Tom Sawyer
I'd watch pine trees swaying tall and pencilled.

I'd see fat carp in groups of three and four
move with the ease of summer clouds that had
now become unaccustomed to downpours
and recall the old fishing hut, table plaid.

It's lime green, boards and a creaking blue door
I recall kingfishers darting, side by side
how they would plunge and then suddenly soar
I was in [heaven] till insecticides

From a crop-sprayer flew over, killing
off all the fish, which meant no revenue.
The fishing hut got hauled down, a clearing-
Made; trees-fell like some God had gone achoo!

A heartbreak evident in daylight
gloomily that's how I recall this place
squats lakeside like being graveside
a feeling all [heaven] had been, defaced.