“A lazy paddle up a slow moving river, witnessing nature such as dancing dragon flies from reed to reed, foxes on the bank, bull frogs lazing on lily pads”

Beneath a sky as blue as drowsy dreams,  
The river’s hush invites a gentle glide—  
My paddle barely murmurs in the gleam  
Where sleepy currents pull me to their side.  

Along the banks, young foxes pause mid-play,  
Rust-ruffed and slender as the willow’s shade;  
Their sharp, bright faces turn, then dart away  
In quick delight at every ripple made.  

Dragonflies—electric blue—convene  
In flights of whimsy, sparking air with light.  
They loop and pause, then vanish in the green  
To trade the reeds a fleeting, crystal bite.  

A thousand frogs lounge fat upon the pads,  
Each golden eye a beacon in the heat;  
Their throats balloon in throaty, midnight ballads,  
But now, at noon, they nap and skip a beat.  

All stillness, save for shivers in the rushes—  
A breeze, a paddle’s drip, a distant crow.  
The world, for once, reveals its quiet hushes  
Where lazy rivers teach the heart to slow.

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