The soft September sunlight shone <br />Through still and stagnant waters green, <br />A clouded mass of silt and weed <br />Beside the bridge's arch. <br /> <br />A shoal of silver rudd did lie <br />So motionless yet through the murk, <br />They glowed and lit the shallows <br />Of that peaceful waterway. <br /> <br />Like frozen in the midst of time <br />They hung suspended there before, <br />Too many for my eyes to count <br />The season had been kind. <br /> <br />I heard a moorhen call within <br />The weary wilting banks of reed, <br />Too shy to leave the safety <br />Of the shadows where it swam. <br /> <br />Beyond the hawthorn berries ripe <br />In scarlet drew my wandering gaze, <br />Where bush and brick converged I stared <br />As autumn days drew near. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Copyright. Andrew Blakemore 2009<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-soft-september-sunlight-shone/
