Watching Emily Play...(I.P.)

Spring birdsong
called the tune
as she danced
amongst the bluebells
in the starry, maple shade

down her usual path
to the fire-pond in the glade
where she fished
for tadpoles
and sticklebacks –
fishing-net in hand

and met a man
in khaki shorts –
a nature-buff like her,
with a love for creatures
great and small;

and quite by chance,
was a spider on her dress.
If she kept stock still –
he’d brush it clean away...
or so he told her

as, breathless, she ran...
One afternoon in May
when he taught her things
she hadn’t yet learned
how to say.