I love this time of year when the ancient woods are filled with the most beautiful scent and haze of the bluebells..I remember as a child gathering armfuls of them to bring home and put in vases.
For May.
Bluebell Time.
Majorelle dancing racemes
quiver in the whispering breeze.
Enchanting scent drifts eerily
through reassuringly
silent glade. Languid air
occasionally pierced
by cheerful birdsong.
Constancy
of annual remembrance.
Fading memories
tenderly revisited.
Counting among fulfillment
another twelve months
shelter from darkness.
Wraith-like shadows
melted by shards of
aureate light.
As ghostly nostalgia is
laid to rest once more.
quiver in the whispering breeze.
Enchanting scent drifts eerily
through reassuringly
silent glade. Languid air
occasionally pierced
by cheerful birdsong.
Constancy
of annual remembrance.
Fading memories
tenderly revisited.
Counting among fulfillment
another twelve months
shelter from darkness.
Wraith-like shadows
melted by shards of
aureate light.
As ghostly nostalgia is
laid to rest once more.
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