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Waiting For Snape

Only wild reeds resonate
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


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