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A Seat in the Sun

Hawthorn Blossom-in-Waiting
Hawthorn Blossom-in-Waiting

The Blackbird flutes mid leafy tree,
To keep his anonymity.
While we below will not guess wrong
But know him by his joyous song.

On dry Oak twig, new leaflets burst.
Their flint spear sheath, the breeze disbursed
And catkin flowers their pollen cast
Adrift, in seas of air so vast.

Green Hawthorn’s boughs where sunlight gleams,
Tight wrapped as fists your blossom dreams.
Against the day when April’s shower,
Brings, in profusion, your Mayflower.

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Bluebells

New Bluebells
New Bluebells

The daffodils are weary now.
They’ve nodded their heads off for Spring.
Their bonnets will be packed away,
‘Cause yellow’s not the latest thing.

Now under bush and under leaf,
Some nascent shoots start to appear.
Their folded blooms show hints of blue,
Surmounting each short sea green spear.

A little sun, a little rain,
A little time must pass as well.
Their blossoms swell and then unfold,
Displaying fresh, a bright bluebell.

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The Strangest Times

Blackthorn
Blackthorn

When Blackthorn’s white and Hawthorne’s green
Together in the hedge are seen,
And Old Sol to his zenith climbs,
We live now in the strangest times.

When snowdrops from the snow have fled.
When blackbird rakes leaves for his bed.
When Spring the yearly quarter chimes,
We live now in the strangest times.

When crows call as they wing their way.
When rooks wheel ‘round as so they may.
When words align in metered rhymes,
We live now in the strangest times.