Forget-me-nots and grape hyacinth creep through cracks while
lesser celandine throws its yellow stars all
over the meadow, bolder than sun. Each day I pay my
respects to the bluebell patch, whose silent chimes
I heard first two years ago, but still I stride
onward, barefoot, grinning, kicking my soles through the
green’s overgrown grass and crouching for a
ripe dandelion to munch: through the meadow gate
and dance, spin, toes in mud, germander speedwell
popping up its light blue and curls of leaves, a daily
“Hello!” on my way to the wood, through hails of plum blossom:
yes, the white flowers nod, come eat us: I feast on wild garlic.
Thanks to Napowrimo.net for the prompt to write about floriography.
See the new NaPoWriMo poems as they pop up, complete with pics of the handwritten drafts, and suggest titles for them, via whatever social media you call home:
All my poems on this site are now #FreeForPoets to play with, to write hybrid forms such as glosas, coupling poems, golden shovels, acrostics, centos, and erasures. Full permissions here: #FreeForPoets.