Kingfisher

The sudden flash of delicate blue That lightning strike so wondrously true There, gone in the blink of an eye, And no matter how hard you try, The only evidence were the rings Of bright water that sweetly sings. It is very rarely seen sitting ghostly On a low slung branch, or twig, mostly Just above the waters edge, Or on their perch just above the ledge And to return with their kill To bash to death with their bill. And swallow whole their gotten gain, Small fry, tadpole or molluscs strain Their way down to the depths. I saw one once standing on the steps, Near Rhayder, on the river Wye, It flew off before I could say good-bye.