We'd a family get together in Denmark, staying in a summer-house near Ebeltoft, a particularly enchanting spot. Go there if you can. Unfortunately I lost my camera which was full of pictures of the area and especially the flowers. I wrote this poem to remind me in words what I'd hope to capture on digital and share with you.
EBELTOFT TALK.
In our opinion
the pink foxgloves are too like strumpets
to be taken seriously.
As Trine's clematis
entwine themselves
we despise the purple
of those social climbing minxes.
The vulgar vetch so careless with favours
allows goosegrass a cheap
tremble in the grass.
So common!
Under a duvet cloud
darting parents feed a bird box
loud in its hunger
limited in words.
Voluptuous hydrangeas, spilling from pots
aim to street crawl.
At least the oak trees understand modesty
their long skirts mocking the shape
of spent rhododendrons.
Whilst pinks cry
We've been here for ever
rugosa rosa rues a
Time's too short.
Our viper's bugloss blue
promotes decorum
dusty by the road.
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www.janeyeadon.co.uk
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