Dancing to natures tune
moving their pale lilac heads.
Liken to a tingling of a bell.
The heavy scented aroma invites
and entices you to possess.
I kneel down, pull the sticky stems
out of mother earth, they slide
in to my hands, bunches of them
lay like a baby across my arms.
Their pretty heads tickle my downy hair.
I hurry home with my gift of plenty
to give to my mam.
She will put them in the jam tar,
that has been idle since blackberry picking in the autumn.
I sniff the jar, the sweet fruity scent still lingers.
Now green stems stand with their purple heads
drooping in their sadness.
For they have been taken from
their habitat and put in to mine.
Julie Pritchard May 2013