Early morning by the Windrush
Awaking I observe
A mallard and his mate
Silently gliding across the river
Leaving in their wake
Ripples on the still water
That extend behind them
Stirring and agitating
The smooth surface.
Moments later the wavelets disappear
For ever gone.
So in life I mark
Leave ripples as I cross
The river of life
From my birth to my death.
For a short time my ripples
Disturb superficially as I cross
But very soon they disappear
Everything is restored
As though I had never passed.
A sobering thought.
