In a summer meadow

We were in a summer meadow on beautiful Kithurst Hill yesterday. So I decided to find a couple of poems I wrote many years ago about summer and inflict - er - privilege my blog readers with them.

Marbled White

SUMMER, SHEFFIELD

 by me 

Summer comes to Sheffield

And greens the thick ribbon of trees

That ties the stone villages of the city.

Daisies dance on Dore lawns

Botanical gardens bloom

Round Ringinglow

Heather moorland hums with bees.

And by contrast:

SUMMER in ARABY   115 degrees

by me

I feel like a piece of toast

A barbecue roast

A restaurant broast

This heat is the uttermost.

Took Audrey shopping on Tuesday and we went out on the field service.  Then I went to Beryls to meet her and Jannett so we could practise for my part in the School tonight.  Aargh.  I will be glad when its done.  Its 3 years since I appeared in the Ministry School.

Before that, Col, Ronald and I have to clean the Kingdom Hall.   And the poor Captain was called out at 1.15 this morning on an urgent search - people rescue, not whale rescue this time.