Yarrow, creamy,
waist-high,
liquorice scent-filled air,
sycamore saplings sprouting,
thin as pencils.
Elderberry spreads
lace parasols above
golden buttercups
strewn,
as if for a picnic
on the lawn.
One hundred yards away,
behind tumble-down,
moss-covered wall,
twenty-first century zips past,
unaware.
another beautiful write/poem. keep writing your voice seems natural and flexible.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I can infer from your poems that Scotland is naturally endowed with rich and beautiful landscape. Good descriptive piece of poetry nicely brought forth. Thanks for sharing June.