Christmas 3 League Tables 0

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 One cold, damp December Sunday afternoon,
After the usual depressing analysis of the league tables,
I biked out through Stroud’s featureless streets
And out along the Slad Valley, to Bull’s Cross;
Past shooting pollarded willow trees all lined along the road,
Past well wrapped Cotswold farmers stacking logs in a dripping coppice,
Past chapels turned to guest houses, their graveyards full of cars;
Past families cutting mistletoe from high tall branches,
Their long handled secateurs silhouetted
Against the setting sun’s cloudscape;
Past rooks, gathering in the afternoon’s gathering dusk,
All calling in the copse,
Until all was still and silent, at sunset,
That moment when all life seems suspended,
In a stationary mid-table of temporary security.
I listened to the silence and then turned for home;
And when I got back to Stroud, in darkness,
Nocturnal winter-spring had sprung!
Every window was now ablaze with lights and trees and candles,
And doors were hung with stars and wreaths of holly and mistletoe.
Christmas has come! Cold season’s magic!


Merry Christmas and a peaceful New Year to you all.

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/christmas-3-league-tables-0/