Saturday, 20 July 2013

Summer Magic

There is something mellow and magical about a summer evening. The heat of the day has gone, only the odd dog walker is out and about, and the colour is just changing with the light of the gradually setting sun. That's what prompted this poem. And listening to Handel.

Some of the sights can be see at:

Summer Magic
An evening stroll past meadow land
Sheep grazing safely behind dry walls
Gently mow the grass where they stand
And sounding off their baaa like calls
I follow the path along the coastal way
I sit on the bench, and look out to sea
Yachts gliding gently within the bay
A whisper of wind by coastal lee
Walking back, past the flowers bright
Wild flowers on heath blow in breeze
Past small front gardens, tiny delight
And the sound of busy worker bees
This is summer magic, gentle peace
The joy remains and does not cease

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