Crepuscular, come shafts of dazzling light
which filter streams of gold through island's trees.
Whose conversation shy, somewhat polite
is whispered on the air of late morn breeze.
Beneath the boughs of sturdy English oak
or in between tall grasses growing green,
wild flowers stretch to greet a fickle sky
while busy bees are bumbling for their Queen.
Uplifting are the treasures spring can bring,
caught in this river haven I adore.
Gone are the irksome ills that plague my thoughts,
I praise what nature gifts, I gaze in awe.
At times for peace of mind I need a place
away from madding crowds, an open space.