The Fishing Bird
Patience is a virtue
One should keep it if one can
I waited an hour and forty-five
My eyes tuned in to scan
My waiting was rewarded
My time was wasted not
For flying down along the brook
I see this tiny red/bluish dot
My camera was excited
I tried to keep it still
For I was standing on a slope
My feet were poised uphill
The little dot got bigger
Then it rested on a twig
I knew the bird as it landed
Because it wasn’t very big
I was staring at a fishing bird
In his beak he had a fish
Britain’s own Kingfisher
Then he flew off with a swish
Composed
By
Beryl Ladd
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