In Bluebell Time
They came back.
A haze of indigo, purple and violet blue
Swirling across that secret glade
Like morning mist
Drifting the mottled shadows
Under gnarled and timeworn trees
Where invisible thrushes carolled
In the heart of those fairy woods.
And it was lovely and it was blue.
Tumbling down to the brook
And all along the margins of the path.
I bent and held a single stem against my palm
Silently pledging no hurt or harm
To see them dangling like drops of rain
To see the blueness once again.
Yet they made no ringing or jingling soundAs they reclaimed their ancient ground.
What joy and truth was thereby found
To see the bluebells all around.