Teased into a breeze leaning with nature’s wand, majestically stood the bulrush frond.

Horse close by grazed grass to root, summer played with summer’s lute.

New growth, golden field’s, patch-worked corn, silken-shaded waters filled with spawn.

Under fine oak, escaping sun’s gaze, stream waters twinkled under musical rays.

Greened-fence wood, only as lichen could, felt warm under hand – so good.

Gentle cascade, wetness played, pebble and water a melody made, singing of the stream sang a serenade.

Bulrush continued in breeze to lean, guard of gentleness to babbling stream.

Wilderness cacophony to me a dream, fullness of life a variation on a theme.

Still the bulrush mighty and strong protects waters journey, gentle and long, stands guarding the most beautiful song.