Sarah's Poetry

Just now,
Hawthorn flowers on every bit of England;
Every branch doth shout that May is out!
Every bough doth cheer that May is here!

Following Blackthorn’s naked April beauty,
Hawthorn’s buds tight-furled on bright green leaves.
Then, last evening, bridal-white,
it swathed a bower for love’s delight.
And now its creamy scent hangs heavy everywhere,
and in the rain-soft afternoon its petals bless the air.

Where the cows stand in the shallows
in the hollow by the stream;
Where the boys swim in the river,
in the park where old men dream,
by the railway
in the hedgerow,
on the dual-carriageway,
Hawthorn blossoms garland England-
Gracious, glorious gifts of May.

© Sarah Allen
May 2005

We had the best of the day,
Hen Cloud to Hulme End
then back to Leek by Thorncliffe.

Rock, heather, gorse,
breeze and calling grouse.
The view to Bosley and Shuttlinslow,
then all the plain of Cheshire
as far as we could see.

How strange it must have been,
when from those flatlands to these hills
came people, long ago,
and gave them names.

Through Blackbrook to Lud Church,
Round Thorpe Cloud then on to Mermaid’s Pool.
High up here where the birds sing against the stillness,
hill-farms crouch in the sunshine
and the late lambs call.

Roach, Morridge, Hillswood, Gun.
Blessed with names which we remember still.

© Sarah Allen
May 2005