In May
The meadow is golden yellow
Buttercup, rattle, hawkweed, goatsbeard
The last before midday only, when Jack Goes to Bed
‘Golden lads and girls’ all
Its sunshine
Its spring
Its blinding optimism
Safe in the knowledge that the balance of the year is yet to come
Fast forward to August
When the meadow gets the blues big time
Scabious, cranesbill, knapweed, chicory
Whose flowerheads like satellite dishes track the arcing sun
A Dylan tangle – like a bird that flew
A mash up of Picasso, Matisse and Monet
With Rothko sat moodily on the bench
Lamenting the passing of summer
___________
Niall Machin has had poems featured in Bath Magg, Atrium Poetry, 192 Magazine and A Thin Slice of Anxiety. He works as an ecologist and lives in Wiltshire watching the skies and bothering moths.