036: The Hut Poem by Colin Johnston

It has a life of its own, this Hut
Waiting for visitors, receptive or not
Watching over the river, it doesn't care
Its stories are there to tell or share.

The eyes of the soul are in its walls
Surveying the ones who sit and chat
Some eyes engaging, some mocking
Locked in wood they gaze from their balconies
Silent in their judgement of our wit

Toucans cast in plaster
Fly forever skywards
Carrying stout to heroes past
Forever searching for The Few
................................................................................................5
Mementoes of happy days...........................................5..... /.....5
Clinging to the walls haphazardly............................5........ /...........5
Continue to watch over us.....................................5......... /====.....5
As we blether away................................................5........................5 .......................................................................................5...............5
Port and Starboard lights hanging by its doors, ...............5
guide the willing to its shores.
Fixed in print, rope tied around tree,
chills the bottle in the island breeze

Corks from bottles drunk
Parade above us like troopers
Aligned in rows they march
Around the hut in droves

Family and Friends stuck to the fridge
quietly stand guard over chilling beverages.

Above them all,
The Green Man
And The Clock decide

No drinking until after five.
-

Colin J...21st Aug.2010.

Unfortunately Poemhunter will not let me insert an image of the clock whose hours are all Fives... so I tried my best...

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Colin…