After the rain

I know that people wax lyrical about the ever changing nature of water views, but after the rain comes the muddy silt laden stream, and after that for a week or so we are treated to a perfectly clear tannin stained river, the colour of dark tea.   In bright sunlight the sand peers up at us with a sort of milky tone, but when the sun disappears the water takes on a certain inky blackness.   

All manner of creatures hide beneath a slick silver skin.

Even the detritus from the careless gardeners upstream seems to add to the poetry.