Photo by Bridget Moore, Devon UK (c)
(I don't have a photo of bluebells)
Devon, my heart aches for you
Your sandy beaches
Your rocky cliffs
Your green fields and woodlands
How I long to visit your bluebell woods
And feast my eyes on those beautiful blue flowers
And smell the intoxicating scent of them
Delicate, bell-shaped, blue wonders
That I remember from days long past
To walk again
Along the twisty paths of Ilfracombe's Torrs
And see the sea
Waves breaking on the shore
And hear the seagulls calling to each other
To walk amongst your trees in autumn
And feel my feet gently crunching your leaves
Brown, and gold, and orange
And smell the sweet smell of leaves
Melting into the earth to replenish
The already rich soil
I'm coming home
I don't know when
But it will be soon
My Devon, my home.
Hi there - I'm sitting in a (slightly grey) Devon today looking out at oaks and copper beach and hazels - and a pond where swallows dip daily and a heron slowly flaps and finds no fish - and in our field beyond there's a small wood carpeted in May with bluebells - this is nearer (12 miles away) to the World Heritage Site of the Jurassic Coast (Exmouth along towards Abbotsbury Swannery) than your Ilfracombe. So greetings - and I'll drop a link to your poem into my (almost) daily news to Devon/Somerset-based poets (a private Google group - possibly going public soon) - I could generate a Google invite to you if you wish.
ReplyDelete- Cheers, Tony
Hi - this is the address of the Devon Poets Online group - which I've switched from private to public access. If you wish to leave it as a comment - great - otherwise just for your own information and I hope you might access occasionally and find interesting: http://groups.google.com/group/company-of-poets - Tony
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