Apologies if this sounds a little morbid. I was walking past the grave yard, out on a walk, and it was being tidied, with the grass all neat, and the headstones shiny. And it struck me, that’s not what I’d want at all for me (hopefully not for many, many years!). This little poem wrote itself in my head as I walked.
Among the Wildflowers do not bury me in a pristine graveyard with neat headstones and freshly mown grass scatter me to the wind let me rush with the water let me dance with the breeze leave me in the wildest place let me rest among the wildflowers and lie beneath the trees let me sink deep into the dark earth and return in the spring in a seedling of hope
There were many Cuckooflowers to enjoy on our walk. They are my absolute favourite spring flower. Please enjoy them with me:
Hope my words and photos convey how I feel about the beautiful nature around me, and how I’d like to remain among these lovely wild places.
Inspired by a grave yard, some Cuckooflowers, and the Lens-Artists Photo Challenge #145: Getting to Know You.