In Indian file they climb the hill,
Then turn, as if, all of one will
Then off they wing, to who knows where
Though few thoughts truly travel there.
Derwentwater sits tranquil and still…
A misty, green vale is seen beyond
Birds chorus, now,in raucous song.
All senses seem to drink their fill…
Mountains,dull hues of blue and grey
Cast doubts on such a glorious day.
Young lovers sail out into view, then,
Leave the foreground of the scene-
Who would have known they’d ever been?
A kite, bright as a summer’s day
Flits and dances in its play.
The water’s rippling show of light
Adds to the beauty of the sight.
And here -I sit and write this verse
That, ever, one should be so blessed.