Nights on Spice Island #1.7
Updated: Sep 12
The perishing cowslips
speak to the glade and the rabbits
that easy days have fled.
But have they?
The cowslips, so lovely, might give way
to a forest flushed golden with light,
to leaves of startling red,
to snows that teach the meaning of blue.
The cowslips maybe over
but still may my song ring merry