Here is a poem about watching a pair of kingfishers hunting in the lily pond.
Brilliant flash of blue and gold
bright as neon, streaking through the air
to hit the water of the lily pond,
and one tadpole neatly captured
becomes kingfisher food.
Now poised motionless in the overhanging tree,
small and neat, bright colours almost hidden,
waiting for the moment,
the perfect time
to dive again.
Fishing is your way;
we watch spellbound
as you focus, dart, pounce
light and free, fully present
life in motion.