A Spring Bouquet
When I woke to the Sunrise this morning
The birds sang their sweet sounding trill.
The flowers of the meadows and woodlands
Still slept upon my windowsill.
I had gathered them up in a bouquet
To place in full view for to see
Their beauty as nature unfolds them
With her magical mystery.
Their colours were vibrant, yet fleeting,
As their lives slowly faded away.
Their vitality was not for my keeping.
I could not, with love, make them stay.
Much better by far that they’d lingered
In the earth from whence they came forth.
To light up our lives for much longer
Than plucking them out with such force.
(c) Jeanie Kirkby
by Jeanie Kirkby ©
Images around me seem
Just like phantoms in a dream.
Colours take on different hues
Fiery Red, Purple, Blues.
My daydream shimmers in the heat
Perusing dancing children’s feet.
Their arms linked through like metal chains
As they sing to God for Blessed rains
Their earth is parched there is no yield
Of grain or oats in these dry fields.
The famine hits both man and beast
As yet again there’ll be no feast.
The brazen sun beats down its rays
Drying out hope that soon one day
The parched and sandy fields will be
Places of verdant grass and trees.
© Jeanie Kirkby