Splashes of colour from rhododendrons,
Red, orange, deep pink,
Life springing everywhere.
Astilbes halfway grown.
A magnificent magnolia,
White flowers in abundance, obscuring leaves.
A magpie, blue-black feathers on white,
And a single hoverfly just above the grass.
In a grove, there is an old tree, not tall,
Its trunk and branches covered in green moss, like a sheath.
The branches spread like an outstretched hand,
Pink buds at the tips,
Leaves only just emerging.
There is birdsong all around.
The blue sky contains heavy grey clouds.
Tall trees reach up, framing the view.
A small sense of peace, of the eternal,
Appears and escapes again.
Seagulls fly in vast circles overhead.
The wind lifts, moves my hair, and drops.
The astilbes quiver.
There are flattened daisies on the grass.
Thoughts rise up from deep places that feel
Impossibly dark and huge.
Sometimes there is a spacious emptiness,
Filled with love.
A wren, its tail twitching up and down
Hops around the branches.
The air is sweet, with undertones of earthy and fungal.
A bumble bee, low to the ground, buzzing.
A bluebottle crawls around the grass.