Wild Garlic (Manifold Valley, Derbyshire) Poem by Martin Ward

Manifold, carpet
of virgin white,
sweeps to drink
the crystal waters.

Senses say
another place,
but God's own colours,
fresh as The Creator made,
upon this spring
or first day born.

Should we
not flatter
to deceive,
that this
was made
or given to us,
in humbler form
and humbler place?

Beneath a canopy
worthy of that
transfiguration,
that we
might witness
and testify
to the presence
of the Almighty.

Here
we worship Him,
with all our mortal senses,
that trailers to a greater place.

Bountiful Manifold,
amidst the ruggedness,
beautified by garlands;
intoxicating
in loveliness.