There is blossom everywhere at the moment, heralding spring and I find myself thinking of Simon Armitage’s excellent collection of poems.
You lost your sparkle at the fair,
apple, cherry, blackthorn, pear
watched every petal disappear
among the glamour and the glare
and dodgem cars and flying chairs
and candy floss and dancing bears,
the goldfish and the silverware.
apple, cherry, blackthorn, pear
Glitz and glitter in the air
but blossom neither here or there.
apple, cherry, blackthorn, pear
The woods beyond were sparse and spare,
the branches empty-handed, bare,
no glint of blossom anywhere.
apple, cherry, blackthorn, pear
You walked the planet for a year,
slept in the jaws of winter’s snare,
knelt at a campfire like a prayer.
apple, cherry, blackthorn, pear
Then woke one morning in a rare
illuminated atmosphere.
The trees wore flowers in their hair,
and on the hill you stopped to stare
at blackthorn, apple, cherry, pear,
as blossom blossomed everywhere
and everywhere and everywhere.
apple, cherry, blackthorn, pear