NOT cool!

I would like to tell you about the yellow flowers that crowd the edge of the meadow.

They are so small, so fragile each one alone, yet so strong and vibrant together.

They make the blue corn flowers stand proud alongside, just for being close.

I want to show you where they grow, maybe stop for a while and let the rich summer smell of the over-ripe grass fill your head with yearning for the summers of your youth.

I wonder what they were to you?

Then, walking down the lane past the blooming broom I would ask you to close your eyes.

Then, as evening folds around us, and leading you gently by the hand I would take you alongside the honeysuckle until their scent invaded you and filled with you with the sense of a future unknown.

Then, now, it would be time to sit on the edge of the meadow where no farmer has yet cut the flowering grasses that frame the slow setting of the almost mid summer sun.

Listen!

Can you hear the silence that waits?