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poetry

‘Swaying, Swaying In The Breeze’

It was around the time of the Chelsea Flower Show one year and I was walking along the path in my front garden. Although it was windy, the blue sky just held its own on that sunny afternoon in May. My eyes noticed something moving in the breeze

It was around the time of the Chelsea Flower Show one year and I was walking along the path in my front garden. Although it was windy, the blue sky just held its own on that sunny afternoon in May. My eyes noticed something moving in the breeze – it was the flowers. It was, as if, I saw the flowers in that light for the first time – dancing.

How many decades had I lived here…? How many flowers had I seen grow, flourish and change with the seasons in my garden…? And how many days, weeks and months of beautiful summer weather had I witnessed…? Not forgetting the aggregate of creatures over a couple of decades, or so, that may have happened upon them…?

There was a bee or two doing what they do best in such natural environments, just buzzing about from flower to flower. These were no ordinary bees – they were my bees!

I was compelled; out came my phone. For the next however-long, I filmed them: the bees… the flowers… and the breeze…

Early the next morning when my eyes had barely opened, I was thinking about this scene. My mind was fixated; I could not stop thinking about it all; I was obsessed; over and over and over: the bees… the flowers… and the breeze… Compulsion grabbed me again and I stole my pen. For a good, long while I toiled: trying this here, something else there, moving the other somewhere else… And then, two hours later, I struck gold – I wrote the last word. Phew! It wasn’t until I returned the pen that I could once more live a normal life. I was satisfied. I was quenched. I was full. And I was free from my malady – safe. The only thing I needed to do was have breakfast – and so I did. And continue with my day.

Swaying, Swaying In The Breeze

Swaying, swaying in the breeze

Dancing, dancing beneath tall tree

Moving another way in slight air

So handsome, so pretty, so fair

Hues and shades, rare and fine

What invention, what design…”

– first verse

Just for a moment or two, let your imagination go and think of long ladies with long, wavy hair, wearing long dresses, during long, hazy summer days dancing in circles beneath… a tall tree…

Here is a video recording of myself performing the first verse: Swaying, Swaying In The Breeze

2 replies on “‘Swaying, Swaying In The Breeze’”

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