Seedhead Hope Song #poetry

Derwentwater’s oaken shore
gives onto waters, crystal pure
or so they were, now marred with foam
a plague upon my mountain home

Bracken-clad hillsides’ colours change
with seasons as they rearrange
and sphagnum moss and cotton-grass
wet walker’s bootsteps where they pass

and yew and sedge and ash trees bend
in winds which blow, the boughs to rend
while birdsong of the lark and thrush
ascends with a melodious rush

into the upper atmosphere:
some clearer, brighter, sweeter air
our hopes, though fragile, rising high
as dandelion-seeds dance the sky

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