I thought I’d share a poem of dad’s with an update on the garden
Crisp and fresh, the air this morning, on the open upper deck
While the muddy river waters froth and churn
There’s a drift of salty spray as our vessel pulls away
And Lymington is slowly left astern.
The sun is still half-hidden in the early morning haze
And all around the screaming seagulls fly,
And, ahead, the island lies on a barely seen horizon
Like a supine giant, dark against the sky.
Across the gleaming mudflats the distant reed-beds stand,
A verdant carpet, lavishly unrolled,
While beyond, the tops of trees, barely shifting in the breeze,
Catch the morning sun and briefly glow with gold.
A solitary heron, still and silent, sees us pass,
Poised to strike and single-minded, shows no fear,
For the swirling tide reveals the writhing silver eels,
And swiftly falls the deadly, darting spear.
Past the Yacht Club and Marina, past a multitude of masts,
Past the posts and buoys that mark our course along,
‘Till the Solent is before us and seabirds raucous chorus
Is mingled with the rising seawind song.
The mist has nearly gone now, and across a sparkling sea
The ferry, slow and steady, makes her way,
And all the world is bright in the shining morning light,
With the promise of a lovely Summer day.