they come in handfuls,
floating through, to ground.
pink floaters like
boaters sailing on winds….. whispering:
she winds her hands and arms
into snaking eights
snsnsnaking sleaking shifting
as if to drag up the wind and make it sing….
apple blossoms never find their way…..
never, ever, find their way back home………
not when the insistent breath of life
has carried them off and
folded up their wings……….
Crawling with Lambs
When I was a child, crawling was easy
in and out of the long wheat grasses,
hiding from mother till the tension passes –
with a Jumping Jack as up I’d pop
with grinning face and dishevelled mop.
Yet now it’s the turn of the young white lambs
in the farmer’s field where wheat’s still stands
and little white ears on a bobbing white ball
sticking up high where the skyline falls
on the wheat so green on the hillside trail
with never a sound from the farmers pail.
I bet if he knew these furry white blobs
were flattening his wheat he’d be up on his feet
and off to this hill with his Border called Bess
who’d navigate fun with lambs on the run……
Then perhaps when he left, I’d go down on my knees
and do my bit in the green wheaty leaves
and I’d hide away till time for tea…..
and feel I’d claimed back, a lost part of me.
Spring the Sweetest Spring
When I drive home
my heart smiles….
My sweet neighbour Penny
planted Daffodils in grass, so tired from
Summer’s heated rays, just outside my door,
in Autumn’s cooing days.
Now their radiant energy fields,
reflect the face of a yellow sun
every day, for just a little while.
Spring the sweetest Spring is unravelling
her splendiferous songs and scents,
as Nature awakens in its own ressurection.
What a marvellous way to show
how all of life, after declining and ‘dying’,
comes again in this cycle of Life Force….
to Live & Love again….
Yes, I smile softly, for we never really die, at all.
Ineffable, unfurling of Spring;