Morning has Broken‘s endearing young charms
Fill up the senses and open the eyes.
Tents are unfastened and flapped up on top.
Breakfast-bound campers trip over the guys…
Liam and Lucy, Lizzy and Sam
Wake to the sounds of a camp summers day;
Sarah and Daisy , Izzy, Camille
Perform swift ablutions and enter the fray.
Sizzling sausages sing in the pan
As Liz cooks a breakfast to fill a wild beast.
Accents from Sussex and Scotland compete
With one from St. Lucia – an earful of feast.
The Poet of Pompey peels pans of pale spuds
While Michael and John saw long planks for the fire.
The lift on the ambulance whirs for a trip
To the river to battle with cygnets and mire…
– and float in small boats with a hole in one side
Hissing a descant in tune with the weir.
Guitar strums the chords for a campfire song –
“Honeybee buzz but do not sting my rear..”
Cammy’s addressing a snail on her tray-
“I love you.” It’s bashful and shrinks in its horns
Yamaha stutters in motorbike club
As evening approaches, engendering yawns..
– but only from helpers: the children are fine.
They’re joining in Roll the Ambulance song,
While flutterby cooks rack their brains for a rhyme
To propel their fat motorbike sidecar along
To the Butterfly Bash with a page 23
Short story as long as this camp ode times nine.
The rattling trolley descends to the sounds
Of music and dancing – an evening divine…
Woodlarks Camp, Surrey. 1995