By Thomas D. Crowther
Give me a hammock and a warm day
and later, when I have had my fill
of daydream dozing and the careless
perusal of a happy burden of books,
bring me tea and Garibaldi biscuits
and lemonade, both home-made as
a matter of course; or family famous
ginger beer, fresh pressed and volatile.
Let the air reverberate with bird song
and the busy drone of bumbling bees,
that I might close my eyes and curve
my thinking around the sylvan sounds
of a private paradise, in a evanescent
but prerequisite for sanity, safe haven.
There I will quiet my depleted frame
and conceive my dreams and fancies.
Let me lie unscathed by encumbrances
for an hour or two; an inestimable gift
that might yield me reason and purpose,
that may, if allowed to stir independent
of alarms and reminders, bring me back
to a world in which I can walk without
being mindful of craft and counterfeit:
and my grace will be my grateful prayer.
© Dai Crowther 1999
Dai Crowther lives in Goodwick (Wdig), on the Pembrokeshire coast in the West of Wales.
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