A Bed of Flowers

An image

Of the season’s

First daffodils

Brings a lump to

My throat.

A rebirth

That springs from the soil,

A smile to brighten

The winter gloom –

A reminder

That life

Is not

Diminished

By being within

The earth.

A yellow glow

Suffuses the

stone cross

And the lantern

Promises

Illumination

When the way

Is dark.

Sleep well,

On this

Mothering  Sunday

Your Mother

Brings you flowers…

daffodils

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Six Word Saturday – Herald

From Winter storm debris – Spring trumpets…?20140301_162305 (2)

The Bridal Bouquet

Tissue paper petals clustering on every branch,
Their vision of the palest pink hints at spring’s arrival.
And not before time I think – as, I suspect, do the bees;
Busy in their taskforce floating from posy to posy…
As if a town full of brides have all chosen
To toss their bouquets in our own direction;
Caught by wistful Mother Nature who, with arms
Outstretched, waves them back and forth in gleeful joy.
Her matrimonial trophies destined one day to be
Set free as showers of confetti on the winds of time.

Fresh

I stand outside on my carpet of emerald dew and listen to the birdsong filling the little garden. Letting out a sigh, my emotion floats through the air as an almost tangible thing – over the back fence I can see steam rising from a heating outlet, signalling that a new day is in preparation. The trees may be without leaves but buds herald the start of Spring and the haze in the distance promises sunshine although the air is still chilled for now.

Sunshine and a Natural Botox

I forgot to get my washing in last night.

Today, when I look out, the garden has transformed from one that was magically enhanced by the scalpel of sunlight that drew a vivid sparkle across its features. Now it is grey with tiredness, ugly and unkempt; the light has grown dim, fogged with a creeping sense of inattention and decay.

This afternoon, if it stays dry, I will inject some Springtime hope.

Clutching Straws

#15
February 2013
Yesterday my car moaned and groaned. Wearily plodding up every slight incline, she protested in the loudest voice which sent both our blood pressures rising at an alarming rate. I took her to the car hospital – I didn’t have insurance for that but still they took pity on her and took her in saying, “Leave her overnight, we’ll see what we can do.”
Today she races around; less like the old boiler that she is and more like the Spring chicken that she used to be, and guess what? It’s actually quite contagious!

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