My heart is singing like  the little birds in Dent

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I see the wild geraniums, smell that scent
I feel all nature is embodied there
My heart is singing like  the little birds in Dent

Into a mountain stream my lover went
The sheep then gathered for a wondering stare
I see the wild geraniums, smell that scent

When Easter comes,we heed the death of Lent
Soon leaves will cover hard ground winter bare
My heart is singing like  the little birds in Dent

The limestone in the hills  where walkers wend
Attracts me to the pavements  flowered fair
I see the wild geraniums, smell that scent

From Alston down to Ullswater descend
The image of the  tyrant mountains stares
My heart is singing like  the little birds in Dent

 

How may we come to live as if we are
Kin to  flowers, no  longer conquerors?
I feel the wild geraniums, visceral scent
My heart is  happy like  the little birds in Dent

 

 

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About Katherine

I like poetry and history, literature and music.
This entry was posted in poetry, Symbol, Thinkings and poems, villanelle, vision. Bookmark the permalink.

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