day of these days

A poem by Laurie Lee prompted me to consider the fragrant tenderness of bean flowers with a new appreciation.


(published August 1946 in Horizon)

Such a morning it is when love
leans through geranium windows
and calls with a cockerel’s tongue.

When red-haired girls scamper like roses
over the rain-green grass;
and the sun drips honey.

When hedgerows grow venerable,
berries dry black as blood,
and holes suck in their bees.

Such a morning it is when mice
run whispering from the church,
dragging dropped ears of harvest.

When the partridge draws back his spring
and shoots like a buzzing arrow
over grained and mahogany fields.

When no table is bare,
and no breast dry,
and the tramp feeds on ribs of rabbit.

Such a day it is when time
piles up the hills like pumpkins,
and the streams run golden.

When all men smell good,
and the cheeks of girls
are as baked bread to the mouth.

As bread and beanflowers
the touch of their lips,
and their white teeth sweeter than cucumbers.




About Ruth Paris

Leadership & executive coach, based near Farnham, Surrey, UK. Love my garden and organic allotment / potager.
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4 Responses to day of these days

  1. philipparees says:

    One of my all time favourite poems! Lovely to re-encounter it together with your marvellous abundance illustrated. Congratulations on all the evidence of a sane life.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Ruth says:

      Thank you – and so glad to reconnect you with this fine poem, Philippa. I love that it’s one of your favourites – and appreciate your endorsement of sanity!


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