BLUEBELLS all winnie's poems  ©winnie caw 2004
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this poem ©winnie quinn 1971

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Bluebells, in England, in Spring

Poem for Today

Autumn 1971

Visions of Bluebells on a Spring Afternoon

It's the time of the year
when catkins are drooping from the trees
like dozing caterpillars suspended in mid-air;
When little buds appear on barren branches;
And every tiny primrose is a miracle.

The time when children,
forgetting their warm winter garb,
emerge from bleary-eyed houses
And sprint across damp meadows
towards the woods,
to gather bluebells.

There, among the gloomy shadows
and last year's rubbish,
a thousand dewy maidens stand, motionless;
mourning in the pious silence,
as if willing themselves not to be picked.
Yet, by their drooping heads,
Admitting that it is inevitable.

Later, nodding their heads at one another in the sunshine,
They decide that, perhaps,
it isn't so bad after all.

* * * * *

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from 'My Find My Way', Poems 1968 - 1976 by Winnie Quinn. More @  I Find My Way

Selection of Vol. II @  Going Down the White Hill - Poems 1989 - 1996

Selection of Vol. III @  Bus Stops - Poems 1996 - 2002



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