She's pointing
at some bird
on a pond
in a wood
half a mile
from the farm
a moorhen
she tells me
it walks odd
I reply
I like it
like its eggs
the colour
she relates
she's happy
her eyes bright
I watch her
her brown hair
the grey dress
the black boots
thin figure
Daddy says
all creatures
are God's gift
she watches
the moorhens
some swimming
some walking
she has fine
bone structure
a fine nose
I guess so
I reply
we walk near
her hand soft
white near mine
close to touch
don't suppose
a London
boy sees them?
she asks me
I haven't
before now
I tell her
just pigeons
and sparrows
in London
except parks
then there's ducks
and such things
she walks near
the pond's edge
be careful
she tells me
a child drowned
here last year
I gaze out
at the pond
imagining
the dead child
my father
said the prayers
at the church
afterwards
very sad
Jane says
she's buried
in the small
church's ground
I’ll show you
when we're there
the next time
I recall
the last time
at the church
in the grounds
watching clouds
overhead
laying down
with the dead.