These must be the strangest, most testing and troublesome times that the vast majority of us have ever experienced. Today is the Spring Equinox, and here in West Wales we awoke to bright sunshine – a joy after many long months of rain, and greyness. There are of course, darkly invisible forces at work among us all just now and I like many, probably nearly everyone, am watching with a deal of trepidation. And my heart goes out to all people, everywhere, who are suffering, one way or another, as a consequence of this horrible virus. And equally my thanks, invisible also, but, I trust, benign, go out to all who are striving to make things safe. To heal, to care.
These three poems are offered as small songs, tiny tokens of hope. Poetry doesn’t cure, but maybe it offers balm. The first was written just now. The second is an older refrain, after a glorious walk in the woods, with Helen, Phoebe and Maisie.
And the third is from someone recently discovered…but that’s another story.
Thanks for reading these. Please feel free to share. And whoever you are, wherever in the world you are, I hope you and yours stay safe, stay well and that the months ahead will bring new hope, new realisations and that, as a species, we grasp the possibility that what we learn from all this might help us to make real and lasting change.
Go well friends.
1). March 20th 2020.
Spring blew in today –
washing line cloud scudded
the breeze blistered
a touch cold blooded.
Two siskins, freshly arrived
tanked up on niger seed.
Daffodils soared skyward,
snowdrops still unbowed,
grape hyacinths abound
and the first forget – me – nots
shyly stepping forward
gentian washed aloud.
The box hedge took no heed.
Our land, our world
is gripped by fever
the animal that roared.
There’s darkness, sadness, grief
and loss abroad
whilst change is in the air.
Amidst the early signs of growth,
degrees of illness and despair.
But, the grass will grow
the wind will blow
the moon will rise
the sun will shine
despite the rain and hail.
People come, and likewise go
but nature must prevail,
and we must help it do so.
Hera will buzz the walls and lanes
with little fuss
unaware of our travails.
And, to quote this poet
as the blackbirds, robins, finches, sparrows
throng the air
Despite it all
the joy of spring driven things…
Hera in the sunshine.
2). Composed some 10 or so years ago.
Spring driven thing
It’s a spring like day
And we are walking
Three dogs, you and I
In Pengelly woods
Marvelling at the cathedral of trees
Stepping through the quickening stems of wild garlic and of
Bluebells, pushing up promises
There’s a rough bench to rest on
And the chance to sit
Watching the stream slip by
Calling out its spring time song
Water music for the ear
Greened bark and worsened stone
Go gently on the eye
We talk, you’re writing once more
A matter of delight
Whilst spring adopts its rites alike
We recommence our Sunday hike
Kicking up a storm of last year’s leaf fall
Marshmallowed moulded woodland floor
Winter slowly shrinking back
As the new season slides through the quietly opening door.
3). A poem from a guest poet, Natalie Harrington, my niece.
Our Family Tree.
Years ago, our roots took form
Sculpting an intriguing canopy
They matured and grew, producing life
Creating our family tree.
Foliage formed, beautiful and rare
Each leaf its own design
Separating, reaching far and wide
That, in their uniqueness shine.
Although trees leaves bide separately
Their roots remain as one
Our family tree, our roots, our love
Can never be undone.
Thanks Natalie – for writing this and for sharing it.
Phoebe and Maisie – etched upon our hearts.