I missed the morning sketching class and arrived a bit late in the afternoon, before settling down to be hypnotised by lotus fronds. While I was sketching this, five ibises stalked past, two dusky moor hens walked by me, a neat-footed boy came right up and checked this out before I noticed him. Two Indian ladies, one with a pink headscarf , a crocheted triangle in shell stitch, posed nearby me for a photograph. The strange black finial is a ring-in from the gates near the Con, which i think someone wiser would have left out. April 2, 2011.
Lower Garden – Lotus Pond
Watching the lotus leaves, crowded, flippant,
in a lake subsumed by jostling, a party of flirts
who smile and stare, then blow the other way.
None are perfect, most blowsy
with torn edges, fading patches
and yellow margins, some younger leaves
pruned savagely by insects.
The pond heaves and shivers,
courts the wind, unlikely picnickers
they fill the field, while I try to push
a green puddle into shape.
Then a dusky moor hen steps past, [more timid
than a Coot, tamer than a swamp hen]
red and black feet latent with possibilities.
sts back I was sketching lotus flowers in a vase.
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