TRAFALGAR
The field is full of buttercups.
The sky is full of butterflies.
Summer has arrived after several tries.
The red winged blackbird guards its nest.
This fly fisherman is just a pest.
My intrusion is regarded as a test.
In scaring off this unwanted guest.
Likewise the beaver slaps his tail.
To tell me I should set sail.
My constant whipping of the air.
Seems to have ruffled up their hair.
Maybe I will just put the rod away.
And watch the baby otters play.
Catching fish was really not my goal.
It was more a quiet moment for the soul.