Lay for the Day 30th
A seasonal song.
Leggy from the darkness where
the white hyacinth has settled horizontally
across the stem of its pink companion.
Underground they leant for
a basements seepage
of sunshine, and lived till British Summer Time began.
Then the column of opaque stiff stars,
ivory-carved, sank on itself
like a sea-creature, shrinking and turning transparent.
March southerlies, veering from boisterous
to huge, blew the first death-day
Our loss was made clear by this flower becoming glass,
wrinkling like water by the hour
and doubly beautiful. Now
it seems sad as skin
and forsaken as only something human can.
Lay Reader: an archive of the poetic calendar