Bluebells in Chalet Wood
By: Michael Shann
About The Poem
Leaving the small car-park
with your back to the golf course
on a bright, slightly chilly morning
in April, take the broad, rough track
into woodland, stopping to note
through the trees on your right
the blue slivers of sky where
the Palladian mansion once stood.
Carry on downhill towards
The Temple, the last remnant
of the 18th century estate,
now a popular picnic spot.
Taking the first path on the right,
you’ll come upon them
like you’d stumble on the ocean
or the origin of some happiness
you’d all but forgotten. Bluebells!
Bluebells everywhere! And people!
People and bluebells! Winter’s over.
Take a few steps towards them.
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