This spring the green is wild, profuse and supreme, exotic and extant - the white cane chair left on the lawn seems to float in clovery billows. Over a mower's roar and the whispered conspiracy of the wind, the children's voices are cheerfully elemental like the clatter of rain. Painted shadows tangle, restless and involuntary; and dancing grass tips gesture and curtsy; shuffled leaf-piles quiver timidly - a choreographed colour spectrum as perfectly conglomerate as an artist's palette or the piling silver of a waterfall. We are the blind but chaotic worms joining fearlessly, ignorantly in with the spinning clock of seasons... the layering of the earth, the measured perfection of decay.
While Children Play on a Tyre Swing…
Published
Out of the Cave 
This is so beautiful and vibrant and lively and excellent! The last line is brilliant.
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Thank you. That means a lot. I really didn’t know what I thought of it when I posted it.
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terrific, all the way through: exquisite; if I had to pick: the last stanza, stunning and that line ‘the piling silver of a waterfall’: never knew how to describe that sight, but you’ve nailed it!
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Thank you! Such lovely comments!
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Reblogged this on Out of the Cave and commented:
I am re-posting this as an entry for EIF Poetry Challenge #16 – Nature Poetry. I feel like nearly all my poems use nature in their imagery and so I am using an old one. I hope that’s allowed.
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