17 April 2021

By Leo Gibson

The Isle beside our well-loved weir

Lays quiet for many months of year

But come the Spring we give it life

As crews cross down it’s width

It seems to greet our very steps

With a smell which lasts just weeks

Of Wild Garlic which tastes so good.

But now this year when all is quiet

Two swans their nest have built

When all we just can do is walk along

The Coaches’s path and look across

At the Isle of which we now just dream