Beyond the years I see a boy
All red of hair and freckled;
Somewhat shy and a little coy,
As the thrush, complexion speckled.
Padding along the river’s bank,
Seeking fish beneath the sedge;
Pulling rushes long and lank,
Beside the water’s edge.
St Bridget’s crosses he is weaving
And tossing stones into the flow;
The larger ones he is heaving,
Into darkened pools below.
Amidst the verdant grass and trees,
Nothing ‘scapes his roving eye;
Kingfisher poised o’er water pleases,
Diving, dipping then to fly.
The golden hair now turned to silver,
Gone those carefree days of yore;
But onward onward flows the river,
Timeless and for evermore.
Monty Alexander 6.3.2016