The other day our Uncle Sean came for the day and we went up into the woods for a walk. It’s the bluebell season and the scene was amazing. I wrote a poem trying to describe the beauty and magic of these lovely flowers.
Recently I heard that the best way to appreciate bluebells is to lay down in them. I took the advice and tried it, well, it’s totally true. The scent is so strong and powerful, it’s soothing and calming. Also seeing them from ground level makes them seem even better. My theory about this is that seeing something from a different angle than we are used to makes it feel unique and special.
How have you looked at things in life with a different perspective? Please let me know.
A silent bell that rings through the woods,
it’s chimes sinking into the absorbing moss,
swallowed up by the trees.
Sheltered by the towering branches,
growing on a bed of leaves,
the bluebells come up, majestic and fine.
Excited spectators watch breathlessly,
as a green shoot appears,
crisp and fresh.
The bell, delicate and sweet,
like a little girl in a pale blue summmer dress,
green stockings on her long legs.
It’s perfumes, lush and luxurious,
waft through the woodland,
like invisible, swirling clouds of beauty and sweetness.
A purple blue feather quilt,
spread over forest floors,
keeping nature warm.
For passers by, down they lie,
and be engulfed by this wonderful magic.
Forgetting the world of troubles and war,
they will rest in this peaceful growth.