Brierley Hill Canal Poem by Elia Michael

The wind gently stirs the canal's surface
With reflections of overhanging trees
Of blue sky, white cloud and sun's golden face
Sparkling glinting dancing with carefree ease

A coot rhythmically squawks then does scoot
On the opposite bank a heron mute
And still as stone fixes its attention
Beak poised in sweet anticipation

Green grassy bulrushes with dark brown spikes
Wheeling above them a seagull screeches
Mallards eagerly cruise towards the sides
Quacking in hope of being fed bread pieces

A fisherman sits and waits with patience
Like the heron his gaze is concentrated
Trying to see through glistening reflections
But Hector's glide-by leaves him frustrated

Wind's whispers sweep the dark water gently
Hypnotically rippling gilded gleams
The wind blows shaking greenery softly
Leaves and red berries backlit by gold beams