Leafy Warwickshire

It was a summer's day,

with a cloudless sky,

as we walked over the bridge,

at Stratford upon Avon.

On the opposite bank,

we sauntered along,

with the town to our right.

Trees with their leaves,

shadowed our footpath.

Across the river we saw,

the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, 

in the distance the parish church,

where Shakespeare had been,

laid to rest before the high altar.

The scenery was idyllic,

the day was warm.

Swans glided by and

people rowed their boats.

My father stopped and 

surveyed the landscape 

and said quietly,

It does not get more English

than this. This is our land,

Our England.