Seeming to float as if a ghost,
Verdant trees whispering on this morning
When the sky is Pre-Raphaelite blue.
The sun fills the river with diamonds
And by the weir minute waves
Are the hue of an old man's beard.
Here a heron guards imperiously
As birdsong graces the soft spring air.
The cathedral peers from behind trees
But God's treasures are elsewhere
With nature at its glorious best
And just for a while observing this view
Problems dissolve....like the morning dew.