John Rickell

(I November 1931 / York)

Cyclamen


The wild Cyclamen
Nestling in the grass
Their marbled leaves
Will stay for summer
Soon to fade and seed.
Not bold like daffodils
Or the Iris in the border
Which eyes me every day.
Casting seeds in June
spreading across the meadow
under shrubs and trees
to delight in Spring.
One must bend down low
To find them,
Pull back their grassy hide.
Plant them as you will,
they'll decide to stay,
if you give them peace.

Submitted: Thursday, February 20, 2014

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