Primrose, At A Woody Edge Poem by james watkin

Primrose, At A Woody Edge



Enmasse, what draws likewise, of
Beauty, its worshipper.
Earthly sunned, divinely faced.
Plum's pale budding under.

Charged, the air, reverential!
As by church wall, unbound.
We, intense harkers to bees, Who from hymn books, resound.

Saturday, September 24, 2022
Topic(s) of this poem: flower
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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