Category Archives: springtime

Yesterday Afternoon

March 27, 2022children, Life, love, poem, Poetry, springtimefamily, Life, love, poem, poetryThe Cheesesellers Wife

Stretched out on the lawn
bathed in warm sun
we idle with you, our traveling son
and spend time on important things
laughter, love and
space to simply be

I am….

February 21, 2022poem, Poetry, springtime, weatherpoem, poetry, spring, springtime, weatherThe Cheesesellers Wife

I am smelling spring flowers on the wind
braving weather and poetry
on a stormy day

Spring in Southern England 2021

April 28, 2021poem, Poetry, springtimepoem, poetry, springThe Cheesesellers Wife

Just like last Spring
there are no April showers
so I must water seeds and flowers

Spring 2021

April 13, 2021poem, Poetry, springtimeflowers, poem, poetry, spring, springtimeThe Cheesesellers Wife

Bright Dandelions and Celandine
blaze in the strong sunshine
yet in the shadows pale Primrose
simply sits and gently glows

And the budding begins

February 2, 2021poem, Poetry, springtimeEarthweal, Life, poem, poetry, spring, springtime, treesThe Cheesesellers Wife

And the budding begins
sticky tree buds emerge
from bare wood

Reddish at first
shading to luminous green
a promise

Nature now waits
as do I, with baited breath
for the right moment

This is a rewrite of an earlier poem, Study in Green, re-visited for Sarahs challenge about seasonal changes over at EarthWeal

Sunshine in Darkness

April 20, 2020Corona, poem, Poetry, springtimecorona virus, lockdown, poem, poetry, springThe Cheesesellers Wife

Rain and fear had washed away the Sun
Her colours run ragged in the rain
But primroses and daffodils kept
The memory of brightness

Neither of us speak today
Or find a want of speaking
Here now, there is sunshine
And a garden

We use old logs, dead plant stems
To build a bug hotel
A haven and shelter
Still keeping 2 metres apart

Time and the Virus

April 9, 2020Corona, Life, poem, Poetry, springtimecorona virus, Life, poem, poetry, spring, timeThe Cheesesellers Wife

Everything has stopped
Except our beating hearts
This fear, anxiety
Dread
To curtail viral spread
Those things by which we
Often measure passing time
Are gone
Birthday parties, Easter family dinners
Clubs, days out, hanging with friends
Forbidden
Passover is still kept
But changed and
Separately

Oh for a cultural tradition of my own
I could cling onto
Instead in Lockdown, we English
Have changed, seem to be talking more
Greeting fellow walkers with smiles and waves

Nature is apace, pushing forward
Birds sing in the absence of traffic
A blue tit perches in my unused car
Flowers bloom, trees bud
Life burdgeons joyously

In the human world
It is as if the month of March
And, so far, a good part of April
Has been cancelled

Just our still beating hearts
And this fear, anxiety
Dread

And the Sun is out

April 2, 2020humour, Life, poem, Poetry, springtimecorona virus, humour, lockdown, poem, poetry, spring, sunThe Cheesesellers Wife

And the Sun is out
lockdown and panic
had cut my wings
now I fly

but only around the garden

Full of trees and Words

April 1, 2020beauty, Life, nature, poem, Poetry, springtimeForest, nature, poem, poetry, springtime, treesThe Cheesesellers Wife

Tree limbs reach out
grab the evening sun
today my mind has been
full of trees and words

Their canopy is shelter
clerestory, the centre
of green life
that great Spring pump of sap upwards
the heartbeat of every forest

Plant a tree knowing it will outlive you
breathe life in the world
the weight of your feet
firming the earth
around its roots
simple midwifery

In trees are stories, histories
the future

Friday Poem: Dear March – Come in

March 20, 2020Friday Poem, poem, Poetry, springtimeEmily Dickinson, Friday Poem, march, poem, poetry, spring, springtimeThe Cheesesellers Wife

Dear March – Come in –
How glad I am –
I hoped for you before –
Put down your Hat –
You must have walked –
How out of Breath you are –
Dear March, how are you, and the Rest –
Did you leave Nature well –
Oh March, Come right upstairs with me –
I have so much to tell –

I got your Letter, and the Birds –
The Maples never knew that you were coming –
I declare – how Red their Faces grew –
But March, forgive me –
And all those Hills you left for me to Hue –
There was no Purple suitable –
You took it all with you –

Who knocks? That April –
Lock the Door –
I will not be pursued –
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied –
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come

That blame is just as dear as Praise
And Praise as mere as Blame –

by Emily Dickinson – 1830-1886