Rowena Warwick
Forget Me Nots
April 28th
After four weeks of sunshine rain comes as a love song,
the breeze turns solid in sky as grey as week old bread.
All the news-talk is of easing travel, Australia and New Zealand,
opening up the other side of world.
I read that beavers in Devon re-fashion the rivers,
that in high water trout leap over the dams.
When the rain is gone I plan to rewild my small plot
let the butterflies settle, the slugs live on.
Later I’ll sprinkle the grass with forget me nots,
the twist of seeds sent from her care home.
—Submitted on 07/16/2020
Rowena Warwick‘s poems have appeared in Acumen, Envoi, The Interpreter’s House, Prole, and other journals. She lives near Oxford and works in the health service.
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