Douglas Percy Bliss
Take me down high hedgerow lanes
when happy summer sun is high,
past the somnolent old houses
as hallowed haze blurs the sky.
I will walk with stick on shoulder,
my skulking collie leads the way,
birdsong embroiders fertile foliage,
wild mammals tenuously stray.
Few cars colonise this rural scene,
noble trees wear leafy crowns,
I walk to pass the time of day,
I’m long since retired from town.
One day I hope to hold a hand
much smaller than my own,
seesaw sized, we’ll amble slow,
God says: not good to be alone.
Many quaint questions asked,
amusing toddler, serious sage,
keenly detected family traits,
annotated those poetic pages.