A couple of weeks ago I went on a walk with the poetry group I belong to. They do this every year and the idea is to write something after the walk.
I couldnít come up with anything at first but after an inspirational Arvon course with Helena Nelson and Michael Laskey last week, I wrote this bit of spoof DT, nicking the Some let me make you...  line from DTís Especially when the October Wind.
Itís addressed to those in my poetry  group who didnít do the walk.
The setting, Waterrow, is a beautiful wooded spot on the River Tone Ė the second stanza refers to the crumbling remains of a Brunel railway viaduct and tunnel.

For you who did not go
to Waterrow

with apologies to Dylan Thomas

For you who did not walk with us,
into the sylvan edge of that most radiant afternoon,
and up the beaming lane, some let me make you of the ferny ways,
where all the sun-sweet day we sang our bramble tunes and braveries
in languages Swinburnian, Thompsonian, Dylanian
into the wide, transfigured brightness of the sky.

For you who did not sit beside us,
upon the spidered ledge of late Septemberís loveliness,
some let me make you of the ancient stones, that kingdom
mapped with mighty pillared rock and carved by fame,
where labyrinthine tunnels ring to dunnock, robin, wren.
Some let me make you of the forest voices.

For you who did not run with us across the lea
on apple-scented air, some let me make you
of the happy fields and how we lingered there,
beside the lake. Some let me make you of the quiet waters,
where we pushed out boats of shimmering silver thought,
bearing cargoes of unspoken praise.

For you who did not take the homeward road,
pausing, lest companionship should fade, at the old inn,
some let me make you of the sparkling ale. For you
who did not tell by evening star, by harvest moon
your stanzas to the twilit Brendon Hills,
some let me make you of their sacred glow.
Now arenít you sorry that you didnít go?

Annie Fisher

If you have any comments on this poem,  Annie Fisher would be pleased to hear from you.