A Spring Ball

Bluebell wood

“I am ready!” the woodland quietly whispers.

She coyly turns her sun-dappled crown.

Revealing her translucent, dancing, slippers

And her spring-ball, lilac, gown.

English bluebell wood
Burleigh Wood, Leicestershire

I first published this poem on the blog last year, but with excitement and anticipation that part of spring is almost upon us again. I took a walk up into an unexplored part of the Vienna Woods the other day. It was divine. The freshness and the sound of the birds was just beautiful. But, it reminded me that it is also that time of year when the woods in England will be full of bluebells. There is nothing quiet like it! Every year I head  into any wood I can find, trying to capture that illusive perfect image. Somehow I never feel I quiet make it before the short bluebell season is over.

Oh well! It just means I have to go back the next year and try again.