Bluebell walk

Guide my
boot        down
from the stile.
my muddy path ahead
through  the Spring wood
when  I catch my  breath at
wide, silky waves of bluebells
pouring from horizon to horizon,
springing  into my amazed eyes.
Scattered  trees - masts of  galleons
in the calm ocean of pale blue  - their
infant-leafed branches bowing reverently,
honouring the gently swaying beauty beneath.
High above, rags of cherished azure fail to surpass
the flood of tender sapphire below, engulfing my gaze.
Why do these little bells not ring out a  joyful symphony  to
Him  who  has  fashioned  such a  brilliant feast?   Hungrily  my
eyes grasp to seal this treasure in my memory. But the reflection
is outshone by the glory before me.  I would pause for ever to savour
                                  it
                                 but
                                                                         my boots                                     
                                    must tread
                                    onward.