I had expected to find trees
Ivy clad overhanging
the sort that flash past
Between towns
But the world stopped that day
In Tobertynan Wood as I rummaged
Among the cascades
And avalanches of early May
For something to rhyme with blue
And emerald, Lilac, faded Primrose too
I tried gorgeous
And grand was hardly a word
That one would associate
With the progress of a bumble bee
In a horse chestnut, or
The scaly bark of a sky scraping pine
It would have to be something special, I figured
And adjective perhaps
With vowels broad enough
To cover an acre of bluebells
Embrace the biggest oak
Consonants as slender as hazel
sound something like birdsong
The play of raindrops on beech leaves
The creak of ageing ash overhead.
