Poems about places. Mid-March, Chepstow

Mid-March, Chepstow

The ivy and the holly

That stood on guard through the long winter

And held out in the hard times

Are now pushed aside by the brash young green

Of hazel and of ash,

Eager to show off their new beauty

And careless of all duty done

By others

Through the long cold nights.

The beech meanwhile keeps all her children round her.

She did not let them fly off with the oak leaves

In the windy autumn.

She now waits for the new brood to hatch and grow,

At last to take their brothers’ places.