Hawthorn morning



Hawthorn petals

like a lace wedding veil,

torn in a March gale;

sailing on scented winds

like fairy wings-

bringing spring’s tingling feeling

of happy, lingering, sunny days.

 
This poem is dedicated to yesterday’s International Poetry Day and a celebration of spring.

I’m really enjoying our walks in the countryside around Cople. Each day I wonder how many more buds are out, what suprises are there under the hedgerows: daisies, celedine, anemonies and tiny violets. Skylarks serenade us along the paths at the edges of fields and red kites circle above. Our prize is watching the brown hares running along the furrows and sunning themselves. Such beauty is to be savoured every moment!

The troubadour



The troubadour seeks hellibores

As his muse,

He visualises a heart wreath made of

Velvet warm petals,  meek rose pink

Twinkling  flowers and snow whites in fine fettle:

A delicate meander of pattern and colour.

From his medieval stone garret,

He weaves his words of love and valour.