In Kingscote Woods I saw today,
shrugging off their leafy shroud,
a choir of snowdrops standing proud.
Heads meekly bowed in silent prayer
like angels who had journeyed thence
to greet us with their innocence.
And further down the track I found
ablaze with green and yellow light,
a patch of winter aconite.
Soon the bluebells in their turn
will from the fecund earth bring hope
to soothe this weary misanthrope.
© Geoff Mead 2017
Coming Home to Story 
Dear Geoff, this is truly beautiful. I love your writing. Helen
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Thank you Helen!
Another note… Every year when the snowdrops emerge I struggle to find original, appropriate words and images to describe them. Every year I fail. You have found them! Well done. You have evoked in those few words the snowdrop essence I have been searching for. H x
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