Aboard the Poetry Bus

To Cut a Long Story...

Our delightful friend at Enchanted Oak offered two photographs this week, one to be used as stimulus for the ride. I chose this one:-

I waited hours in Longstone Creek that day
concealed in long grass, out of view, where long-
beaked geese were wont to fly. A longspur and
a longeared owl came by -- and one lone goose
who settled not a long way off. I crouched,
and heard among long honks and hisses, this:
Allow your mind the thing you've longed for most,
and for the longest time, then hang that dream
high on the longest branch of yonder tree.
Eyes closed, my longboat dream ran real again --
easy to see my craft on that long bough,
rocked by the trees as though by long sea waves.
Opening my eyes, the goose no longer there.
Instead, a wraith-like longshoreman had come
who whittled long-beaked geese from driftwood bits,
and said For you, sweet lass, a punt! The words,
half lost in loud, long honks and hissing sounds,
confirmed his longest finger pointing out
the longan tree's long wishing branch, from which
my longboat slowly drifted down towards
the sea's long inlet, there. We walked along
the path by the long barrow, where he said,
So now you've seen my long home. Let's move on!
and almost dug that long mound with his thumb.
We reached my long punt, boarding her with care,
but first he cut the long branch down and stripped
it bare to make of it a long pole, leaned
his long frame in, and showed me how to punt.
All that took place so very long ago --

a short time after which, I married him.