The Toll of the Bluebells


B is for… Bluebells

In the outdoor hidden wilderness,
There lies a brambled hall,
Where the acoustics set to perfect,
And the canopy grows quite tall.

For there in almost unison,
The bluebells chime their song.
natures grounded orchestra,
Tinkle all day long.

As the breeze it strokes their petals,
They whistle like a flute,
A humble winded instrument,
Sound quivers to the root.

The leaves they form percussion,
the rain it drums the beat,
Forming steady rhythm,
The bass round and deep.

A thousand strumming stems play,
Like a harp or string quartet,
The melody of the bluebell,
A woodland soundtrack set.

No Mozart, or Debussy,
Could write a comparing tune,
As the bluebells take their encore,
And bow their heads in bloom.

Inspired by the blog Thoughts from the outdoors! 🙂
This poem is for B of the A to Z challenge


15 thoughts on “The Toll of the Bluebells

  1. I Love this!

    I enjoy the picture you paint with words…

    Thanks for sharing!


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