The weight of water never waits
for readiness
Sandstone is proven to be
a two-faced liar
a pretence of solidity written
into the features of its rockface
which crumbles under a wave’s supremacy
and we wave goodbye
to all we knew
Lynne Nesbit
There’s gorse, of course and sometimes broom, the lichens yellow on the tomb and every churchyard has its fill of lovely yellow daffodils. There’s dandelions and celandine and yellow primrose, I suppose, and fluffy yellow chicks are born and yellow toads from slippery spawn. And green is seen on every lawn, at April’s end the woods turn blue and tulips bloom in pink and red with drooping leaves in every bed but yellow bellows all around: spring’s mating call, a joyful sound. Julia Duke