Children of the Hedgerow
***
Sun paints orchard gold,
small hands reach for ruddy fruit—
apples, pears abound.
Pockets heavy with sweet spoils,
laughter drifting down the lane.
Down the dusty lane
sun-drenched meadow calls them on,
blackberries hiding.
Eager fingers search the thorns,
purple sweetness stains their lips.
Purple smiles remain,
along the winding hedgerow
brown husks split open.
Glossy conkers fill small palms,
dreams of glory soon to swing.
Swinging dreams at dusk,
children gather near the trees,
whispers in green shade.
Truth or dare and blushing cheeks,
secrets rustling in the leaves.
Rustling summer leaves
softly hush the evening air,
daylight fading slow.
Laughter drifts through memory—
a season held like treasure.