AUGUST IS THE MONTH
“Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.
Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating –
Where will all come home?”
From ‘Where Go The Boats?’ by Robert Louis Stevenson
Only the crossing was grim due to a choppy sea
The water threw our boat around
– it was a hovercraft you see –
Then a gravelly beach with pebbles abound
Flat-roofed terraces rose, swelled, from the ground.
Walkers – but no stalkers – hasten here
To forage for lifestyles austere
Swimmers come too – throw themselves without fear
Into cold waters come Christmas at Ventnor
Coves, cliffs, B&B folk galore
Come and go like the tides on the shore
You sit with a telescope on the top floor
And imagine a sailor’s life, and more
Whimsical landscape, the Solent roar
Bending roads lead to Victorian pasture
Piece of England so rich and pure
Next season, she beckons again, encore!
24 December 2012 / 24 May 2013