The pastures they beckond

The pastures they beckon'd, the fields did await
The birds and the buds and the blooms all conspired
With sunrise and sunset; all sufficient bait
To draw e'en the wintriest of dark souls outside

Down daffodil lanes I made my escape
From them fev'rish spaces, all dank and despairing
To woods full of bluebells, primrose-strewn paths
To rivers of snowdrops and sun-dappled clearings

Alive was my heart! I voyaged yet further
Untroubled by cloudlets that gathered afar
Accompany'd only by rattles and creaking
Of a two-wheeled contraption, I had not a care

When time came to pause, I did find me a river
And settled me down on its velveteen mile
Brought forth from a case did I procure a laptop
And proceedèd serenely to type, for a while

As always it happens, the muse it did leave me
The hours pass'd quickly, the sun was gone too;
Had I given more than the scantest attention
Well might I have noticed, the sky'd lost its blue

The weather it broke, with a crash and a rumble
The river was rattled with rain, hail and snow
A case all of plastic protected my laptop
But as for myself, well – how was I to know?

And so there's a lesson, when one consorts with nature
Remember it always has the upper hand
To learn what it means to be caught by the weather
There's no better place than the angels' fair land

Tuesday, 6 April 2004