Feathers of blue, with hints of gold.
A stream of pure water, clear and cold.
Fish are hiding or darting about,
hoping they won't be lunch.
She sits on the branch, watching and still.
Just before she lurches to the fish below.
Her baby waits for each fishy morsel.
Growing big and strong, already a handful.
Flapping its wings, it leaves the nest.
Goodbye sweet Kingfisher,
God bless.
By Terry Ann Hatch
