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Three becks
Three becks swim the three vales
On the way
To my village.
One paths through
Dark neighbourhood
Of the forest evil
Where gnomes dance in
Macabre-dans
We only hear
None goes near
Save the initiates
None fish there.
The other edge the savannah
Flows to Atamora
And disappears into her cave, dead end.
The third
Source from a hollow shallow...
Here I love to sit
Throw pebbles at the fishes, gippies...
Hear the tinkling timbrels
Of the squeaking squirels
Where crickets, insects and birds
Compere ballets.
When the green mambas, pitch cobras, tense vipers slither pass I warned the rats
Should the python chanced by
I run and hide.
My gallery forest
dense and blest
Sit by this beck
From thence...
Spread its presence.