An ode (you get variety on this blog, don't you!)

Our old house has a massive laburnum tree and lots of dappled light from the other trees in the garden. Anyway, our neighbours have sent us a poem, in the great tradition of British "odes".

The Laburnum Tree

It stands serene, it stands so tall;
Towering over the garden wall,
Standing there beside the gate
A joy to see in springtime late.
Its blossoms hang in golden chains
When breezes blow, there's golden rain.
It lights the road like a beacon bright
And still shines out in pale moonlight.
Then comes the wind, and golden snow
Is plucked from every slender bough.
The breezes rise and blossoms fall
Across the road beyond the wall,
They cover pathways in our street
Like scrambled eggs about our feet.
Comes the rain, they're washed away
And only golden memories stay.

G. Val. Owens, May '06