Greater Celandine, named for Swallows - Chelidon in Greek. You flower just when the swallows come, their nesting sites to seek. Various goddesses, the fables tell, and Personae Dramatica, Became this bird, if things got tough, around the state of Attica Yet here on earth, a useful plant, a part of herbal lore. But give respect, don’t take it now, while it’s fresh and raw. Good for the liver if used aright, or so old healers taught. But the sap is strong, it’s often used to burn away a wart.
Dog Rose, Dag Rose. Rose with daggers drawn. Among the leafy hedge, your talons lie concealed. Beware, for fragile skin can easily be torn. When beauty’s claws unsheathed are then revealed. Demure rose, shy rose. Hide from prying eyes. Let friendly branch and leaf your gentle petals mask. While you turn your face up to azure skies, A court of attentive bees is all you ask.
Frivolous Spring’s cast-off gaiety lies all about The social whirl is over now without a doubt The fun and frolics have ended for another year Petals scattered on the ground left without a tear For playtime now is over, gone with no regret There’s work that must be done, now that Summer’s set Put off the frills and lace, pull on fresh green overalls Seeds need to be nurtured before old Autumn calls
Blackthorn blossom, hedgerow herald, You have come to show the way. Your flowers lighten old brown hedges, 'Now it’s spring,’ you seem to say. Tell the Hawthorn, ‘Wake from slumber! Spread your tablecloth of green. Cover old grey bones of branches, So May Blossom can be seen.’
In Flanders’ fields, the poppies grow, Where gentle summer breezes blow. Men lie there still, both friend and foe, No more homeward will they go. The broken hearts, the tears that flow, Their family’s love, they’ll never know. They died for us, both friend and foe, We will remember them just so.
Between the gatepost and the gate, there is a narrow gap. And Summer brought me scents of fields and streams where I could lap. And grassy banks of dandelions that I could run among, But Summer seems so long ago, in Summer I was young. Between the gatepost and the gate, the gap remains the same, But fields and streams and dandelions no longer call my name. For Autumn’s come with heavy tread, stiff joints and dimming sight, Now Summer’s scents are lost and gone and Autumn is our blight.
Hold on tight, don't get blown away. Tell the wind, it's OK, you'll stay here with all your kith and kin, Each and every one a twin. Don't float around on balmy breeze, If you do, it makes me sneeze. Am I a grump? I know, it shows. Thistledown, you get right up my nose.
See the New Moon’s darkened skies its inclined crescent hold, Leant forward in the pale sunset, as custom was of old. To pour away the last month's cares and all in life untrue. And cleanse our minds and right our deeds and start the days anew.
But in amongst Spring’s pale green leaves Crab Apple’s blossom show. So give a care for what we lose and what we must let go. As in our mind resentments surge that don’t deserve their weight. Do not confuse what we needs lose with fancies we create.
Hoo doo, Throstle, owz't ga'an? Yous sings gey smart. Ga’an, sing us yan. Carolling cadences so spectacular, Hard to define in the vernacular. Sing out loud when storms are brewing, Cleave the wind with arpeggic hewing. Sing each phrase in full fortissimo, Let others take the pianissimo. Sing a phrase and then repeat. Add some notes till it’s replete. Sing it all again with feeling, First, the refrain and then freewheeling.
Sweet Tête-à-tête, stand tall in this harsh clime. Blossom through the worst that is our springtime. Slim, chaste and demure as only you can be, Did you ever think that you would be set free? In your pot, you sat upon the window cill, Of warmth and water always had your fill, Here, rain, wind and snow are who the piper pays. Do you ever hanker after the good old days?
Hold on a minute, wait a sec,
Is it Tuesday? Tuesday. Check!
We need some eggs and milk and flour,
We’ll have pancakes in half an hour.
A recipe is what we need,
Come on Google, yes indeed.
Find one suitable for me,
Look, there’s one on the BBC.
Mix it pour it in the pan.
Can I flip it? Yes, I can!
Lemon juice and honey spread,
Sugar crunch, maybe, instead.
They were there, right on the plate,
If you’d like a taste, well, you’re too late.
Sitting, through the window gazing,
Festive fare before us spread.
Your joie de vivre is so amazing,
Share with us our daily bread.
Christmas lights show their reflection.
You, the cold, wild winds must bear.
Forcing on me introspection,
For nought would I your wild life share.