Right now I'm working on a sequence of poems inspired by Coton Orchard – a priority habitat bursting with biodiversity, but threatened by local government's plans to build a busway. This one was written in the spring, for Blossom Day (23rd April).
See these over-wintered trees –
Fissured frames, frigid limbs,
Dead fingers – their summer dreams
Lie in the grass, thin skeletons.
Fossil forest, caught in the act
Of marking time. Until
And one grey woollen mitten strains and splits, lets slip a lightening streak,
And the secret
And out again – the change repeats
A hundred-thousand-fold, and builds
To a full, full-throated peal.
Spring’s bunting trills.
The gloves are off; a show of hands;
Clouds of mayflies taking flight;
Manna from heaven; wedding banns;
Silent snowfall overnight.
Morning’s broken; bright new world.
Arresting sight beseeches, Stay!
But as the final bud unfurls,
Three petals drift away.