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Blood Wedding

I have called this short piece Blood Wedding after the play by Lorca

I did not have a title until I purchased a copy of his play in a supermarket of all places

Today was one one of those late spring days where there was still a slight coolness in the air but the strength of the high sun compensates and one almost feels that summer has arrived

We visited an Elizabethan manor house which is hidden from view

The gardens were exquisite as normal and showed nothing of their winter woes

I particularly admired the smooth lawns and the seasonal hush flowers

Woman of light

 

Do share your perfumes

 

With those who visit you

 

 

This was not my poetry but had been crudely carved into the wooden door of a dovecote

Not everybody can see it

So the privilege was mine

The carving is over eighty years old or so I am told

As normal I was carrying a book of poetry

Today it was a collection of poems by the gentlest of all poets

Water De La Mare

I did not read the book whilst I was there

But I did admire the dappled sunlight flickering on its blue cover

Such are late spring days in the southern counties