Lazy Sundaymorning River…

Slowly drifting on a lazy sundaymorning river,

Floating between rich meadows and low-hanging trees,

The sky, pure blue,

A tiny white fluffy dot here and there,

Just to decorate it,

And water, glistening in a low earlymorning sun…

A proud heron, on majestic high legs,

Looking for a nice breakfast on the waterfront,

The delicious aroma of chamomile tickles my nose,

Along with the scent of other herbs,

And hidden in the long grass on the riverbanks,

Beautiful patches of wild flowers,

Blossoming in the new sun…

A branch floating by,

Who knows where it has been…

A small fish jumps,

Making silly circles in the silent surface,

An early frog,

Calling his mates in the pond beyond,

And on a small beach inbetween some rocks,

Some wobbly ducks and geese, slowly waking up…

Between the meadows, abundant hedges,

Buzzing away, full of life,

And birds, hiding between all branches,

Singing their songs,

Telling the world about the beauty of it all…

A breeze, ever so gently swirls through my hair,

Playful tickles my face,

Cooling it in the lazy warmth of the upcoming sun…

I let the murmuring water take me,

Around a bend and another bend,

Under an old rusty bridge with old wooden planks,

That no one dares crossing anymore,

Ruins of an ancient building on a hillside,

Empty, deserted,

Nature has taken over, in full glory…

A new smell takes over,

The smell of coffee, freshly brewed,

The only human thing, beside the warmth of love,

That doesn’t disturb the feeling of nature…

Slowly I wake up and leave my thoughts,

It’s all in a dream,

Like a lazy sundaymorning river…