The Foxgloves.

The  Foxgloves. 13/07/2013. [
I climbed up and walked down the white forest track.

The spruce stood still, obedient in the mid-July heat

A stream trickled by into the granite cracks

Straying branches, machine squashed into the side of trees.

In this place of impressed order, on track and wood,

The nodding foxgloves seemed to recognise my surprise

As busy bumblebees entered each purple hood

Settled, emerged and droned to their secret hides.

A purple line that stretched endlessly along the path

Nature’s infinite herbaceous border designed and planted

In barren ground of dead sticks and stony sand

Each seed genetically happy to where it has landed.

As long as the sun shines somewhere in the dark wood,

That purple flower, a child’s puppet, does the heart good. Bobby Buckley 13/07/13.

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One thought on “The Foxgloves.

  1. Pingback: The Foxgloves. | bbgardensblog

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