Summer morning, Nineteen Seventy,

Field study, Miss Skipworth's junior third,

Inspired location, unvisited

But silently, we listened, absorbed.

 

Amazed that Carr Dyke was Roman-built,

I had no knowledge and less inkling,

Imported empire goods transported,

From Nene valley up to Lincoln.

 

Engineered during Hadrian's reign,

Built fen waterway, the border wall,

Ancient dyke presently silted thin,

Since horse and cart transport goods long haul.

 

Lush green thickets crowd out Volturnus,

Fortress-like banks of green reed and rush,

Struggling fish swim the lower waters,

Whilst birds perch hopefully in the bush.

 

Class dismissed, now write poetic verse,

Provide others with your sense of sight,

Today's or yesteryear's landscape,

Create images, your words take flight.

 

I wrote of avian aerobats,

Myriad insects move en masse,

Small mammals wending wearisome ways,

Through flowered pastures, willowy grass.

 

I wrote of the cerulean sky,

With darkening clouds, way, way yonder,

A hushed breeze waves herbaceous rushes,

Captivating, heightening wonder.

 

Pen in hand, I wrote of white Hawthorn,

The abundant green leaves on the Oak,

Walking meadows, love's young hands entwined,

Privately I kept your name unspoke.

 

Inseparable we, young love's dream,

Princess and the Arabian thief,

Arms held out for all our tomorrow,

No reason to lack hope or belief.

 

But those dark clouds on the horizon,

A harbinger of love's labours lost,

Sadly apart, it often happens,

Too young to recognise warmth from frost.

 

Writing since those happy days of youth,

Erato's Cithara though silent,

The memory of my young love muse,

Held all my future loves, compliant.