One of the bulbs flowering in my tiny greenhouse at the moment is a very early, very lovely, daffodil called cantabricus.
Whilst whizzing through the poetry section for A215 I came across one or two activities that I thought I might enjoy. This little verse arrived when we were asked to write in 'another voice'. The voice is of the blossom on my Prunus autumnalis, subjected to the very low temperatures we've had overnight this week.
So cold, last night.
Stars fearsome bright,
clear points of light.
Frost creeping over us, hurts
stiffening pink frilly skirts
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