Spring-dust
We speed by hot lime fields, emerge into milky fans’ sunlit
Filters through awakening woods, ground-pocked with bluebells’
Flashing ultraviolet; cloud- pink sky shafts pierce an earth redolent
With winter- crumbled detritus; spores, rich brown mould, lichens.
Our tourer hood back; a red lacquered, leather courtesan’s fan,
Its skin -brittle aged pleats display a controlled wantonness.
A single shuttered eye without lid; one cinematic observer.
My yellow scarf gusts and eddies; a parachute sulky in wind,
Frothy parasols of cow parsley, creamy blobbed antennae
On spindled legs; such linear green and herby tripods.
The air dances, April shimmers; spring’s white dress flicks
Back raindrops as we speed through cloudy puddles.
Time shivers on its axis, trembles at its irregular edges.
Spotting a single- track we turn onto a drovers’ road
At the foot of a tumulus, a white stile and old barn’sroof
Tiles glow brokenly in the sun; shifting terracotta planes.
We climb the hill hand in hand, breathless with laughter,
Your brown arms strong and sinewy, your hands pulling me
Up and over the steep precipice, ringed with buttercups
We lean together, heads touching, faces tilted as one,
King and Queen we sit on golden couch grass
Throned immortals we gaze and gaze down over vales
Watch shadows dapple fleet hills, hear distant bird call.
Glimpse far away a sparkle of blue, a slick of sea calm
As our afternoon; you take my face in your hands
Plant a tender kiss on my lips, warm in the breeze,
We crush the flowers naked beneath our bodies
Copyright Susan Flower 2014.
We speed by hot lime fields, emerge into milky fans’ sunlit
Filters through awakening woods, ground-pocked with bluebells’
Flashing ultraviolet; cloud- pink sky shafts pierce an earth redolent
With winter- crumbled detritus; spores, rich brown mould, lichens.
Our tourer hood back; a red lacquered, leather courtesan’s fan,
Its skin -brittle aged pleats display a controlled wantonness.
A single shuttered eye without lid; one cinematic observer.
My yellow scarf gusts and eddies; a parachute sulky in wind,
Frothy parasols of cow parsley, creamy blobbed antennae
On spindled legs; such linear green and herby tripods.
The air dances, April shimmers; spring’s white dress flicks
Back raindrops as we speed through cloudy puddles.
Time shivers on its axis, trembles at its irregular edges.
Spotting a single- track we turn onto a drovers’ road
At the foot of a tumulus, a white stile and old barn’sroof
Tiles glow brokenly in the sun; shifting terracotta planes.
We climb the hill hand in hand, breathless with laughter,
Your brown arms strong and sinewy, your hands pulling me
Up and over the steep precipice, ringed with buttercups
We lean together, heads touching, faces tilted as one,
King and Queen we sit on golden couch grass
Throned immortals we gaze and gaze down over vales
Watch shadows dapple fleet hills, hear distant bird call.
Glimpse far away a sparkle of blue, a slick of sea calm
As our afternoon; you take my face in your hands
Plant a tender kiss on my lips, warm in the breeze,
We crush the flowers naked beneath our bodies
Copyright Susan Flower 2014.
Breathless stuff Sue. Relentless pace and heightening emotion until the very last verse with its 'calm, tender, warm' moment…….and then resolution….
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