The guardians of the river.


Margaret Jones.



Morning starts with a scan across the “Seiont”,
The awakening of another day.

Peace and tranquility. Are they there?
The guardians of the river,
The solitary, independent  Herons. YES.


     The lush of summer trees are a haven for our birds,
    Where better to rear their young, away from prying eyes.
     But Oh’ when the Gull chicks wander
    They leave their messages everywhere.

Not so the Mallard who takes her brood to glide along the river and look for titbits from our summer visitors.
Other summer visitors are the Cormorants preening their wings like caped crusaders.
Also the rare Shelducks who forage when the tide goes out,
And the Canada goose, a welcome sight.



End of summer, start of autumn, with its green,
red and gold foliage (what a palette).
The Swans literally do ‘swan’ up and down the river,
With their plain old family, who will as we all know
turn into lovely white marshmallows on sticks.
  Twilight comes, with its shades of Autumn hues,
With the call of the Curlew, as if calling all home.
And home they go.