reblogged for the change to summer time and losing an hours sleep . . . summer time . . .
planting out another favourite poem, this from last year:
as time slips i sip the hours suntime nonsense flower dreamer amidst woody bowers weekend woman springing out feeling her breathy path by breeze toward sun stance hip swung nonchalance among happiness in bluebells ——— i, not quite, of the bluebells increasingly away with the flowers giddy, sing-song, gone wrong gossamer rhyme blossom coming alive not so much singer as song not so much goer as gone waiter upon bees turning to be cowslip, daff meadow sweet buttercup flowering at last a rose, as if A. H (1st April 2019)
Previously published in The Beaumont magazine and by Survivors’ Poetry’s Poetry Express newsletter.
A walk near where I was living, the clocks had changed, the woods, the light, Spring . . .