Names should always be true names ...

Not far from a dark wood, we heard a blackbird singing - 

Penelope knew the songs of birds - 

We were walking past a new mown meadow - 

We could smell the cut grass, still covering the sloping field - 

We disturbed a slow worm, hidden by the cuttings - 

It moved away from us, hiding itself anew - 

I shuddered whilst I watched it writhing, each lashing coil like a wicked tongue - 

Penelope told me the names of the wild flowers -

That's Yellow Rattle she said - that's Pineapple Weed - 

I stood amongst the flowers, repeating their names to myself - 

Earlier, overhanging branches had shaded us from the sun - 

Now I stood in the sunlight, knee deep in simple marvels - 

Names should always be true names, I thought - 

13.00

Wednesday 7 July 2016

Wyke Wood

Dorset