The small river and the tiny lake we used to swim
had muddy looking water, ugly fish and a crocodile
which ate a goat with a bell that continued to toll
in the beast's stomach, and warned us when it was
time to get out of the water.
Gypsy children bathed here while their mothers
washed and watched by the shore.
Then the small river and the tiny lake were bought
by a consortium, a tall fence erected and work
began to make the place into a rural, nature park.
