Mist sits heavy in the valley;
the green mysterious meadows
hold water and river warmth, or
the lingering winter cold; not
quite the properties of a land
mass. Flooding independently
of the river, greening out of
sync with the land, nature creates
water meadow structures still not
fully understood by floundering
guardians or eager exploiters
of potential, cashable assets.
Thrushes forage oblivious;
the egret holds perfectly still
waiting the one perfect moment;
voles swim secretively intent
through liquid gold reflections and
moles make frequent migrations to
the high banks bordering this still
mysterious sanctuary;
this semi-urban wilderness
with its own unique cacheable
value.