Only wild reeds resonate
As the breeze crosses their beds
Motivating memories
Of woodwind in Suffolk Reds
As the breeze crosses their beds
Motivating memories
Of woodwind in Suffolk Reds
Halyards hitting muted masts
A Wherry waiting to waken
A Hepworth holds its dignity
Whilst wistfully forsaken
Vacant is the vestibule
Lost of anticipation
Still steps tantalising
Leading to frustration
Malted beams over empty seats
Staring at a silent stage
No tautophonic tunings
Musicians waiting to engage
No bustle at the bar
Drinks in the intermission
The terrace now so solitary
In summer a perfect position
So until this pugnacious problem
This intruder that impedes our needs
Is controlled to a certain degree
We’ll listen to the rustle of the reeds.
Hugh