Posted by Admin on 25 May 2006, 12:00 am
How near the forest seems today,
inviting, and so darkly green;
but tho’ it’s not three miles away,
the Solent surges in between,
where westward on a turning tide
that separates Ytene from me –
a magnet that must be denied –
yon tanker’s putting out to sea.
How clear the forest looks today,
that distance-tapered zone so fair;
a sign of rain they used to say,
but I just snuff the spray-wet air,
whilst on this upturned boat I rest
with grateful heart for present weal,
nor envy those who journey west
above that throbbing tanker’s keel.
From The Hounds of Cridmore and Other Isle of Wight Poems, a book of Mr Hudson’s poetry with many illustrations by Heather Cobb.
T. C. Hudson
© T. C. Hudson.
Village
Parish Council