Dreaming of Bluebells


I dream about being in a bluebell woodland,

Morning’s dampness on my hands.

I find a torn seam in elemental’s veil;

Ask to enter the precious trail.



Bare toes tickling on grassy moss, 

Nose wrinkling as plumes of bluebells waft;

Lost in a deep purple blue lake,


Looking at the shapes the old oak makes,

Their wizened branches seeking light,

Orange tip butterflies flee with all their might!


Woodland’s serenade fades gently like a breeze;

I take a sip of Titania’s tea,

Finding myself mixing a pool of morning dew

With soothing dainty hues from the bluebell wood

on my watercolour palette ready for a new painting to emerge.

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!

Celebration of summer 


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It is our first summer at Brown Hare cottage and time to celebrate our beautiful garden. It has progressed from a bramble wildeness to an abundance of cottage flowers, borders, a veg plot and a small orchard. Time to have a celebration and toast our glasses of Elderflower cordial to our first summer. May there be many more…we are not going to move house again. Enjoy and blessings. 🙂

Tranquility among the grasses


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Bashfully passing through
Languishing grasses,
As peeping, floppy poppies
Leap and dive like dashing
Flamenco dancers.

Reviving rain


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Rain revives waning blossom,
A faded, aged May Queen’s trane.
Tuneful, cooling teeny tears
Fall from scented ‘ears’,
Dissolving fears;
Blessing those who choose
To be the poet’s muse
And walk along the enchanted lane.

Yesterday,we waited forever for the torrential rain to ease so that we could

 

Luxurious Tulips


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Luxurious Tulips
Like dancers’ rippling tunics;
Their hips swivelling and
Hands twizzling hoops
Which swoop, cascading to tunes
Played on pixie flutes.

Billowy Skyes


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Billowy skies like antique grey galvinised pales,
Overflowing with silky butter,
Churning a country tale.

Tick tock dandelion clock


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Tick tock Dandelion clock.
Seeds of Thyme and memories like a good wine.
Tompion’s cottage garden is where clock enthusiasts flock:
Little Tom Thumb swings from pendulums of spider’s thread,
Landing in a beautifully scented pink flowery bed.

I have been fascinated by this lovely old cottage for some time,so this morning as I drove past it, the golden early morning sunshine lit up the ravishing cottage garden so beautifully that I had to stop and take this photo. Tompion’s cottage at Ickwell Green, in Bedfordshire, England is very important part of Bedfordshire’s heritage and in fact England’s too. Thomas Tompion was the father of English Clockmakers and watchmakers (born c 1639and died 1713). He was buried in Westminster Abbey,London. The cottage was his home and is now maintained by the Worshipful Company of Clockmakers. His prestigious clocks are still fully operational today.
I hope you enjoy with me in his garden!

Calming Cowslips


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Calming cowslips,
A remedy of old:
Sip three spoonfuls of flowers
Steeped in a powerful mead.

Time for a bountiful spring we’re told.
Yellow fairy bells in sparkling ruby finery,
Tinkling on a breezy evening
As golden sunshine winks and leaves.

First Light


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At first light,
Floating thoughts sink into
An inky stillness.

Tiny tapping on the windowsill
Greets us and the skies gently brighten.

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‘Bee-ilicious’ colours or favourite ice-cream flavours;
Fine feathering  and  watercoloured waves
Awaken dreamy seas and clouds tinged with flames.