I cannot let this month slip past
like so much dandelion drift
without a nod to bluebell woods
broad oceans under ancient beech
such fragile stemmed parabolas
hung with bells as bait for bees
violet hues in deep blue shade
scentsational is May's crusade
when cuckoo calls its name we come
well-worn walking sticks in hand
or legless in electric chairs
rebuffed by age on slight inclines
but none must tread on frailty
it's clear our paths do not converge
we gaze in dazed oblivion
this marvel at meridian
before the seas retreat like grief
and trees make cheerful summer leaf
just a few lines in keeping with the simplicity of our Hyacinthoides non-scripta as I’m linking up with others for Poetry Pantry
PoetryPix 