The Promenade in November

A cold winter's day in November, strolling along the promenade in St Brelade's Bay - that's the theme of today's poem.

The Promenade in November

Come, winds, rain, gales, come
And branches beating like a drum
Deckchairs all gathered in,
Ere the winter storms begin.
Now is the rising of the tide
November cannot be denied
Come, winds, rain, gales, come
And branches beating like a drum

My large umbrella is no shield
As to the gusty gales yield
Seasonal birds have long flown
As the salty spray is thrown
Breaking on the sands so near
Beneath November moon appear
Where rising tides and raging sea
Tourists long ago did flee

Come, winds, rain, gales, come
And branches beating like a drum
I walk the promenade in day
But I am nearly blown away
Find shelter, respite, now at last
No fishermen their lines to cast
Spray and waters high do soar
Waves engulf the sandy shore

Darkening skies: my fingers numb
With lashing rain, a beat, a thrum
As winter weather does begin
And lunar currents long may win
Rising of the moonlit tide
Summer surely now has died
Come, winds, rain, gales, come
And branches beating like a drum