Striking violet-blue, a rich carpet
of fairy flowers
(or perhaps you’d call them witches’ thimbles)
nodding to one side,
snoozing throughout the day;
and you might smell sweet puffs
of their snores.
Take care not to remain in range
of the bells’ delicate peal –
that playful tinkling
might bring an untimely death
(at least, that’s what fairies advise).
And should you pick a bluebell,
well, those devilish forest sprites
might have you trekking eternally
through woodland groves.
If you evade such a fate, however,
you could try
turning a bloom inside out;
manage without a tear,
and there’s a chance of enticing
the one you love
deeper into your life.
Beware, though, if lies and deceit
are your native tongue:
should a bluebell wreath
be placed upon your head,
truth will become the only language
to spill from your lips.
So take heed and be mindful
around anyone you’ve ever wronged.
This poem is part of a project I’m doing to raise money for the RSPB, a UK wildlife conservation and protection charity. Being autistic, nature is often my only place of solace, and I want to do all I can to protect it. As I’m not very comfortable around other people, most of the standard ways of helping out (volunteering, social fundraisers etc) were not a good fit for me, so I came up with #52weeksofnaturepoetry, where I have to post a nature poem here on this blog each week for an entire year without fail.
If you’d like to help, please share this poem to encourage others to take joy in nature, and if you have the time and means to donate, you can do so here. Let’s help keep our wildlife wild!
(You can also become a member of the RSPB and support them month to month. Members receive Nature’s Home magazine and seasonal guides for what to look out for when out and about. Details are on their website.)
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