Wednesday, 3 April 2013

A poem for April


Cosied in the hedgerow,
Rose Campion stands,
A foil for the trembling Cow Parsley.
A flock of Starlings jinks like a tantivy Whippet
And a crow, nightmare black,
Tiptoes on a treetop.
Mayblossom springs on arching sprays,
Hunched on a hillside
Like a Buzzard shielding its prey.
Buttercups freckle the fields
And tickle the noses of grazing cattle
In fields dissected by the slash of a hedgerow,
Curving past the memory of a long-forgotten cottage.

This is one from my Common-place book and improved upon a little as I typed it up today.  The photo of Campions annoyingly eluded me (I have so many photos on here), so this is Ox-Eye Daisies and Valerian on the cusp of May.

Tantivy, incidentally, is a little-used word meaning flat-out gallop, full-pelt . . .

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