February | Hyacinths | May Morning | New Springtime | The Sting | Cherry Blossom | Golden | Poem and Roses | Morning Light 1 | Morning Light 2 | It Rained That Evening | Reverie | Bird Flight | Moving the Horses | An Oak Tree | Regeneration
The aching yellow of laburnum,
the yearning mauve of lilac,
the blossom fused where boughs reach and twist,
long racemes of gold, drooped panicles of purple.
I stand under the canopy, inhaling nascent scents.
A blackbird sings, a swallow flies
into the wide air and lifting wind.
our feet rooted to earth,
what do we know of freedom?