Pond in the Lost Garden of Heligan, Cornwall
Who would be bound
By such small world,
And lily curled?
With whirligig and skater’s skim
And quacking ducks, bustling in,
Noisy in their churn about,
Then on their way, winging out.
But an ancient carp still pounds the beat,
‘Neath winter ice and summer heat,
Just sucking mud and cursing luck,
And wishing he could be a duck.
We are all confined within our own worlds, be it marriage, career, home, finance. It is only human to wish for better. The secret is to make the most of it and not waste your time just sucking mud.
The fish are Rudd, not carp. The ducks are…….ducks.