Bunny, eggs and the dark forces of religion follows this movable celebration day. So Happy Easter..
Cuckoos by Andrew Young
When Coltsfoot withers and begins to wear
Long silver locks instead of golden hair,
And fat red catkins from black poplars fall
And on the ground like caterpillars crawl,
And bracken lifts up slender arms and wrists
And stretches them, unfolding sleepy fists,
The cuckoo in a few well-chosen words
Tell they give Easter eggs to the small bird.
Which reminds me I saw coltsfoot along the canal the other day, reddish in parts, I had not seen it for years. Also someone had planted cowslips in one of the flower beds in town. As for the cuckoo I must hunt his story out.
The last time I heard a cuckoo was years ago - in Spain.
ReplyDeleteI normally hear one every year, down in North Yorkshire and Essex, but of course they are getting rare. I once saw one in the garden in Bath. They are fleeting visitors though.
DeleteI love colfsfoot - it often grows in the most inhospitable places. Love your little poem too. As for the cuckoo - I have not heard it for years.
ReplyDeleteColtsfoot seems to like industrial areas, it settles itself into gravel quite happily Pat.
DeleteWow cowslips ah I remember a field of cowslips. Lovely thank you for reminding me.
ReplyDeleteCowslips always stand proud of the grass these days. I remember councils starting planting them along verges and roundabouts.
DeleteI have never heard a cuckoo, except as a recording.
ReplyDeleteIt is one of the sounds early in the year that everyone looks forward to. Like the skylark rising from the meadow, or my favourite the curlew's haunting cry.
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