Dog rose scented air.
wedding bells afar.
Harebells & summer fairs
Wild flower champion
The scarlet poppy!
Treading on wispy grasses;
Soft silk bed of fresh miniature flora.
Soaring high –
Singing lingers like lover’s whispers
Before vanishing through dreamy vapours.
Cow parsley’s filigree fountains
Shower the wake of Ox Eye daisies.
Hazy white petals slightly dazed,
Enjoy sherbet scented kissing wind.
Morning’s dampness on my hands.
I find a torn seam in elemental’s veil;
Ask to enter the precious trail.
Nose wrinkling as plumes of bluebells waft;
Lost in a deep purple blue lake,
Their wizened branches seeking light,
Orange tip butterflies flee with all their might!
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.
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!
Small heart translucent face,
Peeping shyly through downy lace.
Awakened by a sour biting breeze,
Which makes her cower, she
Curls up, sheltering under boughs
Of mighty beech trees.
Suddenly a shower of frosty crystals
Adorn the mysterious, tearful princess,
Crowning her with a spectacular tiara
As the dryad minstrels play their lyres.
When grey rainy days
Seem endless, we mourn
Lingering on lush chamomile edged lawns,
On well worn comfy chairs
Making endless dainty daisy chains,
Retiring to take tea in the tent before feeling faint.
Warm bread slices spread with butter,
Hearts a flutter;
Ripe strawberries gushing with cream!
Forever cherishing our summer dreams.
Yesterday we had a gorgeous walk in Ampthill Great Park. It felt chilly and I wondered if it would rain, however after a while the sky looked an entcing intense blue, reminiscent of hot July days and my poem was born as we walked!
There are still plenty of brambles ripe and dripping from the hedgerows, the haws are blood red and sloes are growing plumper! I’ve seen a few butterflies and bees, sounding more anxious in their work, before the days get cooler. In the Park are lots of Sweet Chestnut trees, ripe with their spiky balls dangling down. The crab apple trees look the best so I think I’ll be back for more foraging!