And on the second day....
Day 2 of the challenge "a poem a day in April".
This April Day
Look out to sea this April Day.
See the horizon curve
Across wide water.
Waves churned by wind,
Break on shores,
Sculpt fresh forms.
And wind turbines,
Like catherine wheels
Turn to the tune,
Of spring.
And just to keep you going, another little story:
The Torch
“What’re you doing?” Rob moaned sleepily, falling into the middle
of the blow up bed, his elbows and knees hitting the cold, hard floor, as Liz
stumbled over him.
“I’ve got to go to the loo,”
she whispered, groping in the dark, “where’s the torch?”
Rob’s hands felt in the pocket
at the side of the inner tent.
“Here,” he said, clicking on
the Tesco pocket-torch and holding it up.
“Thanks,” she grabbed it,
pointed it at the zipper and quickly opened it.
She stepped quietly into the outer
tent area so as not to waken the girls, whose low, rhythmic breathing assured
her they were fast asleep. With the sound of rain on the canvas roof echoing in
her head, Liz got on hands and knees and searched for her wellies. Next she
slowly swept the torch in a circle. Now, where was her coat? Finding it on the
back of a chair she shivered as she put her arms into the damp armholes, making
a mental note that she must keep her clothes inside at night.
Wellies and raincoat on, she ventured
outside onto the wet grass. Lifting her face to the moon, half hidden in cloud,
she noticed that what she thought was rain was only drizzle. From the din
inside the tent she expected a downpour. Another sound, dull and repetitive, drifted
from one of the other tents. Someone was snoring.
Liz held the torch tightly in
her clammy hands. She could see only a few yards in front of her, everything
else left in unknowable darkness. She picked her way through the first of the two
fields she had to get through. A feint smell of smoke from the bonfire of the
previous evening wafted in the air, reminding her of the BBQ, the wine and
friends singing late into the night. The only reason she’d agreed to this
camping trip.
As she continued on, the occasional
sound of cracking twigs from the woods around her broke the silence and made
her start. She tried not to imagine what
might be lurking in the black. Pulling
her coat tight around her shoulders she quickened her pace, grateful there was
a pathway to follow and greatly relieved when the lights from the toilet block
came into view.
On the way back to her tent she
wondered if this would be the first and only time she went camping. What she
knew for sure was that if they came again they would have to get a more
powerful torch.
Now i have to put my think cap on and get writing the poem for tomorrow.
See you then.
