1
A Sunday flier's prop plane-drone drains
into traffic lulls. Far barks;
birds twit-twot listlessly; gust breathes
through bearded evergreenery;
but all that blinding glamour
beached us on listening foreshores
is wrapped up in grey cloud-tarp:
'Balder Slain Again' - February's main play.
Rook-passel blows its little tumult
of ragged black winging from empty oaks,
over the pink windbreak Pink!
A multitude of little upheld offerings.
Pink, set in hedgerow hard by solitary house
on windy corner, sentinels of a track-way,
bedecked boughs.
These cherry trees detain the eye,
twigged out in petal delicacy,
pleasure dimensions bobbing fragile,
almost luminous in the gloom,
the lush fascination of their blush
in the dull rain they must suffer.
2
Nevertheless, in Queen's Park,
despite drizzle, robins'
brisk glistening
tattoos the air,
stitching sequin-scintillae
from hidden perches
in the white cherry boughs;
thorns are leafing; buds
have burst the yellow suede
of weeping willow trails.
.....................
I say 'cherry' but some would be 'cherry-plum' or 'sugar-plum', another species of the genus prunus, a genus which includes quite a few blossoming trees.
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Wintering
PoetryIt's yet another MajorSeventh. Hop on the big shoulders and look ... Lastest poems are always posted last in my collections. Winter. So, expect sparse gardens, late autumn and wintry countryside, wry philosophy and humour, tenderness towards litt...
