Marshlands

The reeds sway with the evening breeze,
Catching the last rays of the Sun.
A ballet of perfection,
A last waltz, for a day now done.

Inside the boggy marshlands,
Shy corncrakes tuck in their wings;
While two black swans snuggle up,
As a sedge warbler starts to sing.

Coots scoop through the water,
In their hurry to get home,
A fish jumps for an evening fly,
Sending ripples towards the shore.

The Sun descends -- the Moon appears,
Showering gold and silver on this place,
The creatures of the night have come --
While the day ones, sleep in peace.