Barry Press

The summer sunbeams warm the dreamy air?
The wispy cirrus flecks the sleepy sky
?And everything we see is slow or still?
The rushes wave with ripples from a pair
?Of swans that feebly flap but cannot fly?
So slip serenely back into the flow?
Their muffled echo fading from the hill
As all of nature settles on the eye

Some distant birds whose names we do not know?
Drift soundless in the soporific haze?
While others resting in the trees below?
Cease singing as we gaze and gaze and gaze ...
?The river hugs its banks with gentle care?
And slowly softly so do you and I