Posted by Admin on 19 April 2008, 12:00 am
A sluice-gate bridge, a June-calm sea,
a creek wherein the Solent flows;
where children, all unconsciously,
give grace to each unstudied pose.
To focus four unclouded minds,
the baited lines now exercise
their power over lively tongues;
and sun-tanned limbs immobilise.
The minutes pass, and I absorb
their innocence, their inner peace.
What force transfers their mood to me,
in concord with the tranquil sea?
T. C. Hudson
© T. C. Hudson.
Village
Parish Council