Meadow Rape

Angelica standing tall above 

the whispers of the rye grass,

Songs of ragwort ripped by unseen lovers 

wrapped in nectar scented passion. 

Come the morning, 

tears of scattered dew 

fall among the loosestrife 

and lady’s bedstraw folded 

into shapes of kisses; 

meadowsweet.

Oxeye daisy waiting, eyebright watches,

bees hum their favourite melody; 

cornflower blue, 

like poppy based jazzmen 

playing a song without a tune.

* * * * *

Angelica standing tall above 

the whispers of the rye grass,

mouse-ears listen to the gossip; 

the tractor’s coming,

as well as men 

in cement stained boots 

stomping all over 

barefoot laughter.  

In Primrose Walk and Cowslip Mews 

all is now forgotten 

about those sad long-lost forget-me-nots.

Harebells (unheard) chime 

in the fading light of summertime, 

with winter’s skies all concrete clouds 

but if you listen carefully, 

reflective in the stream 

you can hear the willow weep:

‘When will the waterboatman 

come back to me?’

© 2006 P.A.Levy

First published by Puffin Circus 2009