The Spinster

In the morning’s light soft and clear, An echo of voices in nature near, I wander alone through meadow and plain, In full bloom’s riot, a sacramental gain.

Genies of morning wrap around, The punch of scents on rising ground, The flowers nod in an earthly sway, As playful breezes entice their play.

Yet solitude fills this expansive space, With whispers of warmth at nature’s grace, In violets, daisies, the world does bloom, And here arises my natural room.

• Dorothy Wordsworth