Midweek Review
Guardians of the Sanctuary
The glowing, tranquil oceans of green,
That deliver the legendary cup that cheers,
Running to the distant, silent mountains,
Are surely a sanctuary for the restive spirit,
But there’s pained labour in every leaf,
That until late was not bestowed the ballot,
But which kept the Isle’s economy intact,
And those of conscience are bound to hope,
That the small people in the success story,
Wouldn’t be ignored by those big folk,
Helming the struggling land’s marketing frenzy.
By Lynn Ockersz
