Hidden ships sail stormy seas,
Sway to the swell of the ocean breeze.
A rustling tide that ebbs & flows,
Where rustic music roars and blows.
Heads aloft in sacred trance,
Arms held high in spirit dance,
A comradeship of drunken song,
Ancestral crowds, where all belong.
Anchored boats resist the hell,
The turbulent wrath of the Lutine Bell,
For nothing sinks and nothing’s lost,
Though fragile wrecks are flung and tossed.
No pirates plunder this mighty crew,
But crows nests hail the listing view,
They look down from the lofty skies,
Cackling at their rookie disguise.
15th May 2019
On my daily walks, I pass the crossroads, known locally as, “Four Ashes.” As the name suggests, there’s an Ash Tree on every corner. Currently, there’s a beautiful show of different long grasses adorning the area under each tree. On windy days, I’ve been fascinated by the movement of these grasses, bending & swaying together, as the air tries to force itself through the gaps between the stems..like they’re having their own spiritual dance! On other days they resemble the swell of waves of the sea, as they then crash down onto the beach. Either way, they’re quite hypnotic to watch! There are also plenty of noisy crows & rooks flying in & around the village at the moment, raising their young..maybe they know where there is buried treasure? Oooh Arrrr!!!