Hawk’s Beard, bobbing in the breeze.
Your yellow heads, the zephyrs tease.
You wave at every passing bee,
As butterflies flit by so free.

Beware, beware, my warning heed.
The man-with-the-mower thinks you’re a weed.
Duck down amongst the grass and clover,
When the mower passes over.

Well, there’s a surprise! A train pulling coal trucks,
When did we last see one? Must be a year or more.
Coals to Newcastle? In these strange times - it could be,
Or, more likely, coal to tip down some power station's maw.

We thought we’d stopped all that, but it’s started up again.
The way the world is going now, we find we’re learning
it’s going to be hard work to save the planet,
If we want to keep the home fires burning.

An English vicar in Constantinople found,
On his holidays, just wandering around,
This Rose of Sharon, near some religious shrine,
In his garden, he thought that’d look just fine.

So, Rose, have you just arrived from Istanbul?
Were the gardens there getting too full?
Or was it so much less a chore,
To climb over the fence from the garden next door?

Moon Orchid tell me tales of humid climes.
Dark forests where you lived in olden times.
Where jaguars roamed so wild and free,
And the old man of the forest swung from tree to tree.

The dark-eyed loris with his poisonous bite.
Pythons slither past to give you a fright.
Tell me now, honestly, if you will,
Is it boring sitting on our kitchen windowsill?

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.