Punting in Oxford
Dappled sun on fresh-faced cheeks,
Trailing a hand in the green smooth water
Pulling blossom from passing boughs
While watching the ducks berate each other.
A bottle of wine is tied to the stern
Cooling in the gently rippling wake;
Laughter and chatter have softly faded,
Dozing happily to the sound of birdsong
Or else the lapping water round,
The slow and steady splash of pole.
Pimms passed round in plastic cups,
No words are needed to enjoy the sun,
To share an afternoon out on the Cherwell.
Essays are done or else forgotten:
No lectures today and the tutes tomorrow;
The only things to concern them now
Are whether to stop by some grassy bank
Cut off from anything but the river
And crack open that wet, cold bottle of white
Or else carry on up to the Victoria Arms
And see who has enough for a meal and a pint.