Did I mention it was raining this morning? The sky is grubby, not a patch of blue, raindrops drip from every leaf in a garden full of trees, shrubs and bushes, not to mention the grass, and Tosca has gone outside for the first time since we took her to the vet on Friday. She has healed up well and was desperate to get out. She tried to escape through every window, even those that were open just a crack, and yowled at the back door so plaintively it almost broke my heart. Now she’s exploring the damp garden like she’s never seen it before. I’m a bit worried because I have to go out for a while this morning.
There’s a bit of a breeze and it is fascinating to watch the different movements of the various trees: the very tall silver birch waves frantically, while the curly willows toss their curls; outside the other window the cherry tree flutters its leaves and the bay tree sways occasionally.
A poem has emerged from these observations.
Trees Dancing
Tall slender delicate birches
Shake their lustrous leaves
Brandish branches
Restlessly
Willows toss defiant curls
Into a flurry of wispy green
Shower crystal raindrops
Carelessly
The cherry flutters verdant foliage
Trembling heart-shaped leaves
Along each branch
Hopelessly
The darkly noble bay tree
Dips its pungent leaves
Sways misshapen branches
Fatefully
writing in north norfolk 