The Fishing Bird

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