Late spring light drifts across the room,
a cornflower wash that settles on everything
the way dust settles on keepsakes
no one means to forget.
You lift the mirror,
its edge still cool from the windowsill,
and the glass catches a glimmer
that doesn’t stay still~
it f l i c k e r s, almost shy,
as if deciding whether to show you
what it remembers.
Your reflection w a v e r s,
not dramatically, just enough
to remind you that memory
rarely arrives in straight lines.
It comes in small echoes,
soft ones, the kind that lean
toward you when the afternoon quiets
and you finally have time
to notice what stays.
As blue cornflowers decorate each field giving hope in July.
Kings learn many new opportunities; probing questions;
real self-therapy; unblemished veracity with Xyris yearly zest.
Colourful meadow on summer day
Blue cornflowers vie with wild primrose
Perfect poppies with elegant sway
Peaceful place where beauty grows.
Artist ponders this habitat
Colours perused with critical eye
Contentment under wide-brimmed hat
Silent he paints with blissful sigh.
Meadow shimmering under sun
Aromatic perfume does beguile
Canvas reflects what nature has done
Sable brush paused for short while.
Pixabay image: Karsten Bergmann
symbolizing love
hopefulness and devotion
it is a spring bloom
wildflower rapture
in the deep blue of the skies
born of springtime dreams
bluebirds gossiping
in the orange gold of sun
the middle of day
child-like eyes I look at the waving flowers
only ones as blue as this can be called the cornflower
resplendent in any bouquet loved by many artists,
noted favourite of Dutch painter Johannes Vermeer
fields of cornflowers make everyone smile, even
loving the dormice that lives in its midst.
oh so blue the united mixed colours of spring and summer
with its mixture of green and yellow as nature intended
even though to feel blue is feeling sad or low
revealing a silly grin when a nosegay of these flowers are given by a child.
penned 27 February 2016.
Yellow butterflies
In abundance drinking drops
Cornflower blue blooms
Then as a child left to run wild,
No worry or care no evils were there.
Watching the sun through eyelids just born.
Playing with nature in dens made of corn.
On an ocean of flowers so upright and blue,
We would play pirates on a great sea of hue.
Time existed only in seasons,
No need of when?
No need of reasons.
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