Summer on the Fens by Liz Davies

The alien patches of bright yellow fade once more
Into English green, and the hedges, the wide trees
Heave up lush to a dark Wedgwood sky, heavy
With unfallen rain, swinging low, and white birds wade
Through the thickly wet air. Old lace elderflowers,
Hawthorn arching Hockney-deep in clotted cream,
And wild light parsley floats in misty drifts
Across the ridged green of the fields. Dark woods
Set sail over the brow of the hill, with bow waves
Of daisies before, willow leaves along the water
Ripple, turning to silver in the breeze, and look -
A whole ballet corps of chestnut flowers leaps up
In arabesques, tutus flecked with pink and yellow,
The River Great Ouse rises, imperceptibly slow,
Adorned with blooming swans a-cruise on silver,
Cataracts of pink roses pause in their plummet,
Thick vegetation leans into the country roads,
Almost obscuring our way, reminding us still
That England ever belongs to the green, the roots,
To the springs, the branch, the leaf and the flower.

 

Liz lives at Fentstanton - with this poem Liz was runner up in the Fenland Poet Laureate competition in 2017.