1481

Thoughts from the Isle of Wight

A sudden shower, we dive into the tea room,

But it soon stops and sun breaks though the clouds;

The guide is telling children of lemurs

Gibbons, squirrel monkeys and meercats

While fathers fret the lack of internet

And mothers sort out snacks and fizzy drinks.

The park is pleasant, wide vistas and the space

To wander round the enclosures where the apes

Sit and eat, or spa in mock aggression

Till, on an instant, they stop and scratch, before

Carefully picking out and eating fleas,

Owls in single cages sit and wait

For closing time when moonlight will entice

Small rodents to erupt across the floor,

Unsuspecting snacks for eagle eyes

Alert to every movement way below.

Close by, the Garlic Farm sits on a site

Which has been tilled for close three thousand years,

First families on the Isle grew wheat and sheep

Roamed across the downlands to the sea.

Swallows skim across the fields which held

The villages and homes of settlers

Arriving long before Roman or Celt

Their thoughts and language close beyond the sight

Of standing stone or barrow on the height,

I hear grasshoppers somewhere near my feet

And cabbage whites hover along the runs

Of wild flowers lingering below the hedge.

Clouds may darken distant hills but here

The dappled sunlight smiles upon the land

And all is happy in the drowsy heat.

And you?  Where are you in all of this?

The clichés of the summer indicate

That all is well within this rural world

Dedicated to the visitor

Or passing tourist, content to spend their time

Within the showers of an August day.

Last year's temperatures eased out the thought

And for a moment we could simply hope

Heat might become the norm for holidays

But here it rains enough that we recall

Summer's always been a fickle friend.

So do we complain and blame you for

The changes we experience hour by hour,

The sudden flash of sunlight or downpour

Between the passing clouds and chilly eves?

We could, but it would be a waste of time

Frustrating for ourselves and not a wit

Effective to ameliorate the wash

Conflicting passions pummel at our brains

When all we really need is to accept

That what is, is, and then let it rest

Knowing your love's working for the best.

Brian Hick August 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 1.7.26

 1480

Pompey

And once more

That Pizza Express

Moment.

But,

Will this

Ever be

As Valuable

As a few lines

By Picasso?

One thing I do know

This won't pay the bill.

Brian Hick July 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 29.6.26

The Pizza Express moment occurred while waiting for the next course, with the extra napkin enticing Brian to write something on it. Sally

 1479

We are surrounded

By children on holiday

All making a din.

Brian Hick July 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 27.6.26

 1478

Children's voices playing in the tide,

Cut the endless pulsing of the waves.

A  solitary gull rests on the air.

Grey clouds gather in the south

Threatening rain even as we sit

Waiting in the sunlight.

Tea and cake entice a red squirrel

And our table turns

Into a photo opportunity for passing tourists.

On Victoria's private beach the sun

Briefly warms us, then moves north

Exposing the brilliance of a sail

A flash of Spinnaker.

Brian Hick June 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 24.6.26

 1477

I wait until the train's announcement stops

When only the tap of laptops and the click

Of iphones can excuse the hesitation

Before the first ideas begin to tick.

But words lie scrambled somewhere in my brain

And only as they spill out on the page

Shaping themselves into familiar forms

Can I begin to see what they might mean.

Six lines to go after the first quatrains;

The end's in sight and now I must display

A pithy couplet to ensure the tag

Will capture all I really wan to say.

            There, it is finished, but I doubt you'll find

            Any hint of  what's deep in my mind.

This poem is about nothing;

Writing poems is easy -

Saying something is hard.

Brian Hick June 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 22.6.26

 1476

For you are here - felt it from the start

Even though the gale which broke the day

Came near to tearing us apart -

for you are here.

At first I thought you were too far away

And I'd be left in silence and alone

Until your gentle cloud of love held sway

Enfolding me, allowing me to hone

A listening heart, receptive to the way

That leads me to yourself - and we are one

For you are here.

Brian Hick June 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 20.6.26

 1475

The pigeons and the squirrels get along.

Below the garden wall a young squirrel

Forages for seeds

Stopping when she finds one

Alert to any competition

Then

On hind legs

Sits and eats.

A lazy wood-pigeon

Waddles down the path

Pecking aimlessly at anything

Which comes in view,

Back to back

They ignore each other

Only concerned when foreigners -

Magpies casing the garden

Humans putting out seed -

Interrupt their placid

Acceptance

At which point they disappear

But not for long

Having more in common

Than we with them.

Brian Hick June 2016

©copyright Sally Hick 17.6.26