The colour of limes, cooling in shade,

appears, seemingly as watched,

to feather the venous cradle

of branchlets with downy leaves,

that hint of suede, and curl up or back

when buffeted by winds of late spring.

Some flashing their modesty, their underside,

while others part gently,

like a child’s hair being combed by

a doting mother,

startling the sparrows and finches

about their work within,

who are rendered

briefly quiescent, until

the lunge and parry

of their beaks returns.

11 thoughts on “BEECH

  1. Nigel, this is such a wonderful way too describe the leaves of trees
    as they flutter in the sun and summer breeze. Your analogies are
    so rich, making us feel as if we lie under the tree watching.


    Liked by 1 person

  2. A beautiful and atmospheric piece of poetry Nigel. I agree with Colleen, you have created a piece of art with your descriptive poem. I want to sit under this tree and read a good book.

    Liked by 1 person

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