At Sully Poem by Jean Bernard Parr

They came to the playing field
by the sea in waves they came,
this joyful host, of guides and scouts
these fizzing lives breathing blue above
and green below, the redding sun
eeking out its evening loan

and inbetween tufts of squeals, I hoist
a bright boat sail to slap the wind,
a young mind, pausing to look
may play undimmed, a slowed down
cinema scene, even in the shaking years,
and fashion a compass, from this
crimson shimmer, this heady shout
unhoisted, all dreams come to nowt