Feet in the Dew

Bluebell with dew drops

Beautiful May…

My my, it’s May again! If it were a competition for loveliness this month would surely win on several counts, not least because of the promise of summer in all those glorious petals. I hope that you feel it in yourself too, that uplifting feeling of life renewed and the promise of good days ahead – goodness knows we need to take hold of it and ‘gie it laldy’ – we may not quite be able to have an actual ceilidh, but here’s to the desire blossoming…

This is a poem I wrote a couple of years ago on Skye – a blanket of blue was returning to the hillside by our cottage as bluebells emerged and joined springs earlier blossoms. The breeze was running its fingers through the grasses on the old runrigs and a cuckoo, perhaps in recognition of its floral namesake, was calling out – joining his voice to the other birds songs…

Feet in the dew!

There’s a ceilidh begun on the brae today,

to celebrate the month of May,

and a breeze, like fiddler, raising a jig,

has found a new use for the old runrig.

The bracken’s not ready, his fronds still furled,

and the heather’s asleep, deaf to the world.

See, Marsh Marigold, has gathered round,

and Cuckoo Flower has heard the sound –

the bell of the ball, is dressed in blue,

Wild Hyacinth, gown soft and new.

Cobalt, lilac and indigo bells,

whose soft, sweet curve all doubt dispels,

For ‘summer is coming’ the fiddler plays,

‘Come ceilidh wi’ me through warming days,

come, put on your dress or your shirt anew,

let’s dance awhile, feet in the dew!’

by Penny McPherson

Have a happy 1st of May!

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