A poem inspired by the splendid view found during a particularly pleasant evening spent in good company at Church Farm, Shipmeadow.

 

I look forward,
The light breeze warm in my hair,
And see the sky,
An arching frame of blue,
The perfect backdrop to peace.

On the long horizon,
Streaks of rain,
Juxtaposed with pillars of swaying light
Bold in the distance,
Illuminate rolling hills
And sun-dappled meadows of satin grass.

A rickety wooden fence,
Held together by natures firm embrace,
Offers to me it’s weathered shoulder to lean on,
As I pause to drink in
The richest of views.

The scene evokes greater memory in me;
‘Dull would he be of soul
Who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty’.

The orchestra begins.
I hear birdsong
Chirruping above me,
And summer breeze swishing
In the tall grass.

Eternal motion seems,

For the moment still;

With music,

The painting is complete.

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