In the wet lands of Wordsworth and
Wainwright
Would those same sights my poetry inspire?
Find passion’s spark these stale words to
ignite
Must I from wordplay gracefully retire?
Via diversions we arrive in rain
At Ambleside in search of boot-filled shops
Then to ease my credit card’s brand new
pain
Zefferelli’s vegetarian tops
Back on new roads on up towards Kendal
Through trees freshly painted with gold and
rust
Waters of Grasmere, Thirlmere and Rydal
Mountains slaked of nature’s spent summer
lust
The whole weekend ahead with some walking
Or sitting in let rooms simply talking
Saturday morning dawns brightly and clear
The market and birdlife calling us out
Routes are discovered through parkland so
near
Heron, ducks, dippers and gulls all about
Lunches are eaten then back to our room
There are gastronomic delights ahead
Sunday comes wetly and laden with gloom
Weekend visitors have no time for bed
Double soakings on the Bassenthwaite banks
Drive me to Bowness yet failing to park
Returned to Keswick to refuel our tanks
Went to the Distillery after dark
Whilst some might envy our weekend aways
I don’t think that I’m good at holidays
Martin
A W Holmes, October 2016
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