Orchid Glade
If you and I were to go
To the water’s edge,
The first water, the still
Water, the edge of thrill and life;
If our feet sank into the soft mud
In amongst the hoof and egg and stalk;
If we squatted there,
Quiet,
Haunches and skirt,
And waited,
Would we fall or step or roll or sink
Into the water?
Would we break the surface tension,
Bend the reed?
How carefully would we enter into the
Perfect cool water
And drop down, fold down,
In absolute
Awe.
by Flora Gathorne-Hardy
