Janey
Buttercups flow across the grasses - a river of gold and green
Kit...
These are the last days I can pull - clean from its sheath - a stem of blue-grass, suck on the end like Huckleberry Finn.
Already, in most, sap's risen, stem's become strong.
Helen...
Iris and Herb Bennet’s vivid yellows- peach and scarlet poppies nodding behind.
Beverley...
Field poppies are rampant now caught in rolling waves of tall grasses. From among the tangle of nettles and seed-heads, the hogweed has made its way clear.
Jane...
I pulled the sky-blue linen jacket out of the wardrobe.
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