THE POND | CHRIS WARDLE

Nestled beneath school and graveyard,
a family of Kingfishers call the cliffs above the pond, home.
Yet for all the surrounding stillness,
I have never been able to catch
their quick and quirky movement on film.
Hours have I waited here, patiently
watching, wishing, escaping the Summer heat,
longing to retain those flashes of azure blue,
that happy chirping, the joy of seeing children
loved and fed.
And I too have become food,
as small fish nibble at my toes.
But my desire to capture
the colour of this silence
is pointless.
And laughing at the irony of a place of such peace and solitude
sitting between the homes of death and learning,
Hamza asks,
“Can nature ever be captured?”