Grey - by Mrs Heather Grange

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Mid-morning, misty November day,
a taxi ride from Leigh-on-Sea
to Rochford village,
the river and the estuary,
bird sanctuary and nesting grounds
the ebb and flow
on mud flats left by an outgoing tide.
In country lanes, hedges in white embroidery
where magpies forage, ivy embraces trees
The world doesn’t stop, muted sounds
in the fog, aircraft taking off,
trains rumbling by.
The Vicar in flowing surplice waiting
in a draughty porch
while candles flicker under Norman vaults
And the bride wears grey.

By Mrs. Heather Grange
Peverell, Plymouth

This poem was selected as a winner of a nationwide poetry competition run by Marriott Hotels in March 2011.