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



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