Lukewarm sun rays
breaking weakly
through pale grey clouds,
I trudge
in search of spring.

Inky puddles
moiréd with engine oil,
round rain drops
plop winter nonchalance
splitting into damp,
clinging to my skin.

Clammy grass clumps,
feral islands
between tyre trod ruts,
snow drops peek through
back fence cracks,
the scent of jonquils
permeates bone damp air.

A splash 
of shiny yellow
by a sour moss licked drain,
childhood magic –
tell signs
of butter lovers
gleaming under chins,
bring promises
of warmer days
and shorter nights.

To celebrate dVerse opening night

18 thoughts on “Buttercups

  1. I loved reading this poem as it conjured up memories of my childhood – rolling in the sweet clover, the smell of fresh-cut grass, and all the joys of innocence. Ah, for just a breath of innocence above the glow of a buttercup!

  2. I like the mood and the feeling of delight in nature, and being alive, that we get often as children, less often as we age, but its always there if you look for it, like buttercups in spring, and its worth the trudge. Enjoyed, marousia.

  3. Hey! I just made the connection (duh I’m slow) between Marsha Berry, my new but elusive Facebook friend, and Marousia, who I’ve known for quite some while on the blogs and Twitter… relieved to see you’re the same person hehe!

  4. like the juxtapostion between the darkened images, and the hope of buttercups at the end; it’s rather nice that playing of the butter under chin game, joins childhoods across the globe

  5. Pingback: featured poets ~ Marsha Berry aka @marousia | my heart's love songs

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