THE THISTLES
Cloud is down over the hills again.
It drifts and rolls between field and forest.
The valley is lain out soft and still green;
It does not mind the warm rain.
There is not silence, but it feels like silence.
Sheep shorn and the hay is in.
The thistles have a royal flower:
In deserted places, proud,
Like ancient tribes before the Romans came,
They gather and stand still.
—
I was going to Scotland with those royal flowers, to meet with one of the nine tribes, but you brought me to Wales, to meet the Ordovices. Lovely encounter. Proud and prickly whether Scots or Welsh – a bit like me. 🙂
All the pretty weeds we are! Scattered seeds, forgotten and eternal.
”… forgotten and eternal” So beautiful! Re the Thistle – a major flower in the Voynich Manuscript.
I’m very scattered. 🙂
Well, at least also eternal!
Lovely. And there are some beautiful thistles down ere! Also artichoke flowers that resemble giant thistles. I often think about pre roman and early roman times myself!! thanks
Seems to be a good year for them!
‘There is not silence, but it feels like silence.’ I felt this! Lovely evocative words – I like watching those clouds tumble in. And am often reflecting on the lives of those that have walked before. Enjoyed this alot.
Yes, the “there is not silence, but it feels like silence” – goodness…