I wrote this poem sitting in one of my favourite places. A secluded tea garden, lovingly coaxed into existence, near the top of some of the most spectacular cliffs in Guernsey.
Icart Tea Gardens
Blue ceiling,
Green walls,
Soft music,
Tranquillity.
Gentle breeze,
Busy Bees,
Verdant leaves,
Bird song.
Strident Echium,
Pink Campion,
Towering Blackthorn,
White Oleria.
Gentle murmurs,
China clinks,
Buttered Gâche,
Great Ice-Cream.
John Carré Buchanan
10 May 2011
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