Naked Water Poem by Mary Champion

The pond has had a trim.
Reeds razored.
Rubbish removed.
Just a straggle of bedraggled bullrushes
at the far end
bravely standing their ground.

A huge expanse of naked water is revealed
where ducks can dive
and moorhens paddle-
their oversized feet working overtime,
crossing from bank to bank.
No obstacles,
no landmarks.
 

But concerns could be raised
now the reeds have been razed.
Where is their refuge?
Where can they secrete a nest?
Where can they hide their vulnerable chicks
when the heron comes calling?

Surely it deserved a stylist
to trim and shape with delicate care,
not a vandal with barbarous shears
and a sickle.