Evesham

    Aged elm trees, topped with roosting, cawing rooks,
    Alongside graceful hedgerows near the shore,
    Have led my wandering feet along a path
    That takes me to the Avon's bank once more.

    I wave at quiet rowboats gliding by.
    From hilltops, turrets seem to beckon me,
    And I admire a field stone garden wall,
    Half hidden by an ageless spreading tree.

    Around the high-street, dusk has filtered down,
    And windows of the church reflect a glow;
    While abbey bells toll melancholic rounds,
    The full moon nestles over narrow lanes below.

    It’s Christmas. Although snow has not been seen,
    The festive spirit is already here.
    And every street in Evesham seems to send
    A heartfelt welcome, filled with Yuletide cheer.