Summer is here, the day is long,
Swift and Swallow on the wing;
Land of our Fathers, poem and song,
That ‘Harpers’ used to sing.
Trees intertwine above the bower,
Where Pheasant peck and roam;
A haze of warmth rests at this hour,
O’er the grass I call my home.
Tide in retreat with rocks left bare,
Shell and weed upon the shore;
The Gulls skim and hover there,
And depths their eyes explore.
Sailboat searching for a breeze,
Bobs silently on the wave;
Standing stones at inlet lees,
Like markers o’er the grave.
The grazing cattle on the hill,
Move slowly as they eat;
Bush and bramble standing still,
In the noontime heat.
Within the order of all things,
Each must play their part;
Adjusting to what each day brings,
In nature’s fluent art.
Calmness reigns on land and sea,
No tempest, storm or rain;
Soothing the soul as troubles flee,
Till they return again.
Monty Alexander 19.7.97