Cornthwaite Park Poem by Paul Reed

An English Sunday morning
With cricket pitch prepared,
Lemonade and frothy coffees
The hint of roast beef hangs in the air;

Over Sunday newspapers
An unhurried contemplation,
In the distance, faintly
Church organ and congregation;

Sun-dappled wooded hideaways
Quiet winding lanes,
Dog walkers and joyful dogs
Swings and climbing frames;

First hopeful rose buds swelling
Ladybirds engaged in tasks menial,
Cabbage Whites flutter past in pairs
Their flimsy beauty ethereal

A late spring Sunday morning
From pressures we disembark
To spend a precious hour
As we walk in Cornthwaite Park