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

 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

 1384

Off to the Isle of Wight with Emily,

Henry, George and Hannah - till Sunday

When Nick will join them all - with Sally and me.

Off to the Isle of Wight.

We're booked in a Little Hyde near Sandown Bay

Which will be packed with every family

Looking to relax, chill out and stay

Cool, despite the heat, the games and free

Family shows that round off each day,

When calm descends, and time for you and me.

Off to the Isle of Wight.

Are we ready? Are the cases packed?

Is the satnav primed, the OS map,

Towels and tea-clothes, boots and bottles stacked?

Are we ready?

The south coast road is slow and to cap

It all the caravans round Chichester

Are nose to tail, seeming to enwrap

The city in a ring of boils, sinister

White lumps which crawl and ooze to fill each gap

While tempers fray and start to fester.

Are we ready?

Brian Hick July 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 17.9.25

 1190

To the Master of Vectis

I'll set Medusa where you lay to dine

To ward off any evil that may chance,

With gifts from Ceres, Attis and the winds

Above a band of sea folk to entrance.

I will set Orpheus to guard your door,

Surrounded by the animals you love,

The monkey that you found in Appledoor,

Your rabbit and Britannia's turtle dove.

I'll give you gladiators in a fight

Gullus in his costume for the play

And Bacchus to carouse into the night

Thanksgiving for the wine and for the hay.

All this with scrolls like vines to link the stories

With frescoes to refelct their marbled glories.

My great-grandfather set up these mosiacs

And we've the tablets that he left behind

With instructions...

Brian Hick August 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 2.7.24

 1190

To the Master Builder

We'd like the floors to show what we believe,

Not arrogantly, but so that our friends

Will know as they are welcomed and received

That kindness and acceptance to the end

Are at the heart of all that keeps us true,

Whether in the fields of ripening corn,

The cattle on the hills, or ale we brew

As our forefathers have done since that dawn

When they first settled Vectis and these hills

Were gradually shaped by Ceres' hand

Into the pastures and the wooded rills

Which succour all who venerate this land.

            Is this too much to ask or can you find

            Designs which will entrance a working mind?

Brian Hick August 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 1.7.24

 1188 Isle of Wight - various oddments (4)

How good to know that

After all these years horse-shoes

Still hold their value.

Brian Hick July 2012

As a child, Brian had a miniature horse-shoe

made by a farrier on the Isle of Wight as a souvenir.

In our teens, Brian gave the said horse-shoe to me

as remembrance while he was away.

©Sally Hick 24.7.24

 1188 Isle of Wight - various oddments (3)

               Holiday lunchtime;

                    Blue slush

                      Kitcats

                    And chips.

Brian Hick July 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 21.7.24

(2012 holiday with our granddaughter)

 1188 Isle of Wight - various oddments (2)

Six empty tables between me and a family munching burgers

Then the window across the Duver, houses half hidden by trees

Grey and distant the open downs, where I would rather be than here

Oh anywhere than here

And why? It makes no sense for you are here as much as you are there

But I'm not here when my heart aches to be there on that distant hill

alone with you and the wind...

Brian Hick July 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 20.6.24

 1188 Isle of  Wight - various oddments (1)

Nelson

What did he think as

He climbed aboard the skiff that

Last time for Victory?

A green woodpecker,

In the rain, casually

Pecks up unseen ants.

Hannah is crabbing

I have the line and

The ham, Sally the bucket;

Hannah is crabbing

Red whiskered bulbul

With a Mohican haircut.

A red-headed bird from

The Antiques Roadshow.

We read labels, ticked off what we saw,

Amused by birds who tweeted and a pair

Of copulating tortoises....

Thank you for being at the water's edge

Meeting me where harbour footings thrash...

Brian Hick July 2012 (holidaying with our granddaughter on the Isle of Wight) 

©Sally Hick 19.6.24

 1166

Summer hols with H

Soon it will be summer and I yearn

For days unfettered by the cultural grind,

Released from concerts and the need to earn

A few more Brownie points if I can find

Something new to put upon the web,

Better to be on the Isle of Wight

With Hannah in the endless search for peb-bles

Or strolling along Shanklin Chine by night;

Better to be sitting by the pool

Glass in hand and paper on my knee,

Knowing nothing matters and no rule

Will jolt me from this inactivity.

            After all these years perhaps I've found

            A way to stop. Now that seems quite profound.

Brian Hick May 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 20.5.24

Hannah is our granddaughter.