Saturday Morning

Over the river floats a thin haze
A man fishing peaceful is his gaze
Trush and robin sing somewhere in the trees
From the shore sounds a group of geese

The first elderly shoppers appear
On Saturday morning it’s not the young we hear
The young sleep off Friday night
Their night of might

Let slow down the world on Saturday morning
The sun rises sheep are bleating every morning
Sleep or a run in the park on Saturday morning
The sun rises all the same every morning