4

I thought it would be quiet when the rush

Of children had exploded  from the school

But turning into Elder Drive, the hush

I had expected was quite over-ruled

By starlings massed along the aerials,

Atop the plane trees, on the bungalows,

Twittering in a flap of eagerness

Until, as if commanded, they arose

To sweep across the evening sky in bursts

Of darkened stars, as suddenly unseen

As if they held the gift of light within

Their power, while I alone am left to dream

          The joy of such companionship in flight

          From silence to the echo of the night.

Brian Hick November 2010

©copyright Sally Hick 14,11,22

 3

Why do Essex girls

Have skirts three inches shorter

Than anywhere else?

Brian Hick November 2010

©copyright Sally HIck 11.11.22

2

Individual pylons are okay

But near Southend they come in feral clumps

Like teenagers on heat.

Even autumn's colours are subdued

 By greying lumps strung out across the bland

Decaying flats.

Morose commuters, on their wy to work

Ignore the slow decline

Towards the east

Assuming London life will be enough

To overwrite abandoned nights

In numbing purgatory.

Meanwhile the smirking pylons watch the trains

Trundle on, then trundle back again

To Southend's terminus.

Brian Hick November 2010

©copyright Sally Hick 11.11.22

 BS 1

I'm not used to filling out my time

Waiting for the next appointment

Who will probably be late

And meanwhile I'm at a loose end

With nothing that's essential

To the smooth running of this place;

But I'm annoyed by waste

Which only functions to abuse

My agitated passion to achieve,

To complete one thing

Then move on to the next

Rather than sit here suppressing grief.

If there's  to be no fire in my belly

I might as well watch Countdown on the tele.

Brian Hick November 2010

©copyright Sally Hick 9.11.22

 John Snetzler came to England

About 1742

And quickly made a name for himself

As an Organ Builder who

Underwtood the English

With their unusual habit

Of singing hymns so lustily

Then hunting fox or rabbit.

He set up shop in Soho,

Not far from Handel's home,

Repairing others' organs

Until he chanced to roam

Up north where Unitarians

Had settled, and he found

A ready market for his wares

In homes, so he was bound

To have a special liking

For their quieter ways

And designed the Dulciana

For Unitarian praise.

Buckingham heard our organ when he

Visited William Strutt

At St Helen's House in Derby

In 1813, but

Something happened after that

And in 1837

Walkers made a full rebuild

After you were riven

By some catastrophe or other

Which destroyed your case

And three ranks of your pipework

Putting in their place

A half-rank Dulciana -

Though not of Snetzler's type -

And a softly liquid Flute

Which continues to delight.

Moved from Norton to Banbury

Before you made a start

For Lewes' West Gate Chapel

And thus, by horse and cart,

To Hastings Unitarians

For twelve pounds and a beer

In thanks for careful carriage and

Erection over there.

Since when you have given joy to all

And musical delight

For over seventy years until

We come at last tonight

To say goodbye to how you've been

Since 1930, for

You are off to Surbiton

Where Matthew will restore

You, so we look towards the future

When we'll see you again

With your new case and ranks of pipes

So, God speed until then.

Lets raise a glass and wish you well

Until we hear once more

The sounds that Johann Snetzler heard

In 1764!

BH 27.11.09

©copyright Sally Hick 7.11.22

Bonfire Night

Nick can't wait until the family get here

And let's off rockets, casually, by twos.

The children cheer at every new-lit fuse

While adults toy with wine, canapes and beer,

Just-cooked chicken legs, sausage rolls,

Potatow wedges, crisps and vegan dips

Which Emily stock-piled through endless trips

To Sainsbury's and the Co-op in the hols.

An hour of bangs and whizzes, oohs and aahs,

'til excited children, sparklers clutched in hand,

Await the final rocket of the day

And then a plate of hot-dogs leads the way

Back inside, for bedtime stories, and

A dying bonfire 'neath the silent stars.

Brian Hick 11.11.09

©copyright Sally Hick 4.11.22

 

 Breakfast

'Would you like tea of coffee?'

'Yes. Two boiled eggs,' you replied.

Another senior moment

Or just that you relied

On what she normally asks us

Here at the Falcon Hotel

As we slip into the familiar

Pattern of breakfast.  Ah well,

At least we both started laughing

Aware from the moment you spoke

That what you had said without hearing

Was worth a repeat as a joke

When the family gathers together

And stories are being retold

Of the funny things that happen

To all of us as we grow old,

Thankful we can laugh together

Knowing, for now, we can share

A joke at each other's confusion -

Before we're too senile to care!

Brian Hick 11.1109 Stratford-on-Avon

©copyright Sally Hick 2.11.22