Wild Ransoms
 
Along the cliff edge -
Too far to safely reach -
These white bells tantalised
With their strange scent :
A pungent odour on the breeze
Their signature.
 
Later, in Roseland,
We saw them grown like weeds :
Filling meadows, smothering hedgerow grass,
Covering the roadside verge
Like gentle drifts of snow.
 
And at St. Just, filling the churchyard there,
Bluebells and ransoms like a haze
On every bank, round ancient graves.
 
And, through the palm
That grows where you now rest,
A solitary ransom flower had set.
 
Though far away in miles and time,
The smell of garlic takes me back -
Transports me instantaneously
To that Spring day :
The tiny church, the muddy creek,
The ransom flowers and you