Caught by the camera
You crouch to pick a single bluebell,
crushing others unwittingly beneath your feet,
you add it to the sheaf cradled in your arm.
Just one more, and another, and another
Until the burden of this bounty
becomes almost too much.
Between finger and thumb you grasp the soft and silky stem
and pluck it from the cool earth,
The heady perfume adding to the store of sensations:
Sunday-best dress and tightly-ringleted hair,
A tendril escaping to settle on sun-browned cheeks,
Wet meadow grass on bare girlish legs,
Earthy woodland scents,
Blue haze carpeting the meadow,
A lazy cuckoo’s distant call,
And now this.
And 'In and Out the Dusty Bluebells'? It's a children's traditional street and playground song, the origins of which are stated as variously as being sung at the Hiring Fairs of old - hence the line: "Who will be my master?" - or for the young girls seeking to know who their lover would be, probably based on the same line!