A Poem by Simon Smith
This poem first appeared on the front page at the launch of this website
Spring in Norwood Green
The Sun, remembering this day,
slides alongside buds and shoots.
Almost at you.
Licking your breath away.
Like it, love it, ask it to stay.
Has it always been this way?
A bridge across a river, black from cars.
Crazy paths of journeys now,
where the grains still grow nearby.
Where we score the earth with food not tars.
A tuft of greenness to draw us in,
where we foolishly enjoy
such love as lets us play
and, can be heard above the din.
A path leads to a churchyard sowed with souls.
God’s garden. Growing peace and joy.
Too ready we pass it by.
And to the Plough where we seek to hide.
And hold the hand that calls us friend.
Only linger if you know its ploy.
The old school house settles the score.
Opposing themes, 500 years or more.
Spring in Norwood Green is the thing.
gasp and see.
It’s always there, this annual ring.
Yes, like it.
Love it then today.
Only then, you’ll find
it will always be this way.