Ponders the pond

Ponders the pond.

The morning washed by last nights rain

The Grebe refreshed will entertain

The Heron he signals step this way

The Coots so eager to display

The Swans they glide serenely past

I doubt a show like this will last.

I fear their correct, I cannot dwell

My thoughts soon overcome by smell

So please I urge heed my tale

Or stink for sure will prevail.

There has not been a shower

But still we know the power, of the rain

My ears are surely ringing

From that bloody man singing, I’m in pain.

He for one sure loves his voice.

But not for him the gift of choice.

As for me overcome by sound.

I try and turn this chap around.

For surely facing another way

Could bring an end to such a day