No Now May

16 May

In honour of No Mow May, long grass, scattering seeds, biodiversity, rewilding and wrens, a little poem for the occasion.

I don’t want a lawn,

something tamed and severed

from its own potential.

I want daisies.

I want cuckoo flowers that sing

a capella with the wind.

I want to fall down on my knees

in the hunt for rare bee orchids.

I want bees.

I want the way my legs

disappear among

the long, wet grasses.

I want the rush of it all,

the swoosh of it, seeds scattered

to the sky on each passing footfall

of my breath.

I want to explain the sun, moon and stars

of every exploding dandelion.

I want what the wren wants:

the possibility to shelter,

then to soar.

New Writing Workshops

Clare Mulvany