ANYONE FOR CRICKET?
A Light-Ship rocks the waves,- making History!
It stands alone,-upon emerging shelving shallows.
Distant,-the fog glides past.
Eerie sounds,Clanging bells,of anchoring buoys.
The muffled,Heart-felt cries from Seagulls, flying overhead,-reach my ears!
A distant Sand Bank appears,- dotted with worm casts,-above the waves!
An old Hover-craft glides in,- on gentle breeze,-in hazy sunlight.
The Cricket Teams,- disembark!
Seasonal Balls cast.
Wickets, played and taken.
A few hours grace!
Taking in a picnic, - a golden Opportunity!
Till, they concede Nature.
Cool lapping English Channel water.
A yearly ritual, - sanctity ends!