An Ode To Norfolk

Poem By Anthony Foster

I look; and I wonder at those mysteries over land devoid of hill,
A land that is reclaimed with its canals and ditches along the way,
I watch wild deer in the growing wheat they are standing so still,
And the mad March hare intent on its running bobbing boxing and play,

The straight roads disappear over yonder horizon,
In company with a ditch that drains,
Overhead fly the Geese in a V formation,
The sound of their honking still remains,

Amongst the remains of wartime airfields,
Concrete and pillboxes that never fired a shot,
The ghosts of British and American airman,
From where so many did not return,

The Primrose and the Daffodils rustles in the cold east wind,
Spring is in the air and almost upon the land but not yet,
Where is King the dog? He has gone nosing in the dyke,
Out he bounds, a good shake and now we all are soaking wet.

This land of ruined windmills,
Of flooded diggings called the Broads,
Those flocks of birds feeding in the fields,
Yes we will be coming back.

Comments about An Ode To Norfolk

Really enjoyed this. It was a poem and an education in one. The descriptions were great, and the poem flows. A nice read Steve

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