EVENING ON GURNARD MARSH

Posted by Admin on Saturday, 19th April 2008, 00:00

A sluice-gate bridge, a June-calm sea,
a creek wherein the Solent flows;
where children, all unconsciously,
give grace to each unstudied pose.

To focus four unclouded minds,
the baited lines now exercise
their power over lively tongues;
and sun-tanned limbs immobilise.

The minutes pass, and I absorb
their innocence, their inner peace.
What force transfers their mood to me,
in concord with the tranquil sea?

T. C. Hudson

© T. C. Hudson.

 

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