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Crich village cross

Poetry corner

  • Halfway along The Common,
  • February's snow seems deeper
  • Than any other months.
  • The drive is blocked and in the morning
  • The milk tanker will not venture
  • Down the drive.
  • And Dad (and Chieftain)
  • Will have to take the milk
  • To the road by seven am.
  • Tonight, the snow
  • Seems slower, almost fixed
  • As it passes the light
  • On the corner of the long barn
  • And hits
  • The ground with a loud nothing.
  • Bread and milk
  • Bubbles on the Aga
  • I toast my feet while Ann makes oatcakes
  • For breakfast.

Charley Martin

The Last Laugh

  • The leaves they have the last laugh
  • Along with their friend the breeze
  • They drop onto gardens and paths
  • And along the streets they wheeze
  • We then decide to pick them up
  • With broom, rake or garden vac
  • We collect them very carefully
  • Then mulch, or put them in a sack
  • We think we've done a good job
  • It's taken quite a while
  • Stand back and look quite proud
  • And on our face - a smile
  • As we clear away our tools
  • Along comes a friendly breeze
  • And while we pop along indoors
  • Gently whispers to the trees .....let go your leaves

Shirley Crosby