This poem of mine appears on a brass plaque near the country bus stop overlooking…
Who called this Down, Bleak?
What eye berated
these grey green undulating fields,
the dips and falls of country sweeping out?
Trail the Yar river springing
near the parish church in Niton.
Pass farms like Lavender, Eastview,
Appleford and Bridge
and see not bleak but bountiful.
Not the dark overhang of Bagwich Lane,
but bright gold God-given gorse and
blue sky. And at night,
not interrupting town light,
Felicity Fair Thompson