The flowers of the field

Violet and Primrose
In their bright one-pieces
Lie in the sun
And nudge each other, pitying
Poor plain Windflower,
Who, for all her basking, stays
As white as writing paper all season long,
And giggle at tall green
With his strong stems, thick leaves
And fair head of white flowers,
As shy ragged Robin
Blushes in his tattered coat.
May and Cherry
Braid themselves with blossoms
Bridal-white; and, trembling, wonder
If Winter will return
To ravish them
And steal their unborn fruits.
While at their feet
The gentle hand of Spring
Tailor-tacks a pair of orange tips
To a lady’s smock.

“No very great matter in the ditty”, as Touchstone said; it’s Friday, and far too lovely a day to be writing anything very serious.

10 thoughts on “Florescence

  1. It is Saturday now, and far too lovely a day to be sitting at my computer, but I am glad I stopped by long enough to read this.
    You paint a beautiful picture with your words Nick

  2. I read your latest poems from the one at the top to this and you vary the tone so brilliantly from bouyant to melancholy. It’s almost classical but there is a twist of a modern voice which is extremely accessible. This one though, is my favourite on this particular visit. 🙂

  3. Your wonderful comment has absolutely made my day, Kiersty – I’ve felt lately as though I’m finally getting somewhere in finding my voice, and you’ve crystallised it for me perfectly. Thank you so much.

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