It foams in creamy-white unfurlings,
cresting the bluebells’ receding wave;
turning woodland shade into
shimmering delight.

Dreamlike it rises, an airy froth
riding up the boles
of old oaks;
drawing the eye up their stately heights
to blue-pierced canopy above;
then down again on
rays of filtered light that play
upon the lacy veil earth wears
for its spring marriage
to heaven.

Cow parsley. A weed.
Queen Anne’s lace it’s other name.

A King’s wedding gift.