Playing by the broad muddy riverside,
iron steps ringing, smooth shiny slide.
The old powder mill race sleekly glides
to white water power falling, foaming.
Past the tea room with outside tables
and daisy-chains arranged on a lawn.
Cups and saucers, reading tea-leaves
strawberry jam and cream on scones.

Whirling and spinning roundabout world,
swinging high and higher into the sky,
to leap far onto the soft trodden grass.
Tumbling over pimpernel and yarrow,
a kingfisher flashes by, and a butterfly.
Amongst the flowers a rocking horse
Waits stilly, eyes wild, nostrils flared.
What’s the motivation stirs this beast?

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