The violent storm that washes away pain

A brittle chirping echoes off walls of fresh green

Demanding notice and pulling your attention

Back in to that place of solitude and peace.


Only weeks ago our shoulders shrugged

In that involuntary reaction to winter’s frosty exhale

A cold grey blanket wrapping all but eyes

Until light, air, magic, crack open the ground.


What did we do without colour, without rain

Fresh life again, and our senses stirred

From her beautiful crust, such bounty, such gifts

And the reddest gift of all – poppies.


Screenshot 2016-05-30 20.49.05

Leave a Comment