For all that is wrong in the world, there are some places where things seem right, and Cliveden Reach, above Maidenhead and below Cookham, was such a place yesterday afternoon.
I and my jaunty crew had a picnic on the tiniest of islands wedged between Samson’s Eyot and the hanging trees of the Cliveden escarpment.
Cygne came by.
The hours went by
“Annihilating all that’s made, to a green thought in a green shade!”