This week’s poems are by Gillian Fisher and Wilf Daniells.
MARCH AND APRIL PASTEL-DAB
grass that surrounds most tree trunks,
gold, violet, scylla blue, and white.
A rug of colours made of those
marks, was thrown to superimpose
last autumn’s leaves in their last plight.
Like groups of friends, our daisy clumps
gossip on the broad greensward.
We shouldn’t haul the mower out too soon,
and execute them, while they’re merrily strewn,
because, just on one afternoon, we’re bored!
Out of its body-changing cubicle,
a butterfly emerges, to dry new wings.
Odd, how a caterpillar built a drab
dull shed around itself, held by a tab
on a sheltered tree, or wasll, until next spring.
Sing me a song to thrill my heart
With notes so clear and true
Sing me a song of peace and love
To ring the whole world through
Sing me a song as it should be sung
The way you always do
Sing me a song of hope and joy
As I’ve always loved you to
Sing me a song as loud as you can
With promise of life anew
So the last sound I hear
As I go to my rest
Is the sound of you.