Mayflower Whiteout

Bourne in mid-May, it's almondy scent

Ushers joy and ambition in silent consent

A blanket of white as far as the eye

As Hawthorn dominates, field to sky

With Bitter-Cress crouching, below at its hem

Four flowers of white on a fragile stem

It hides in the shade, whilst the Mayflower shouts

"Look around, look at me! Can there be any doubt?"

Jack-by-the-Hedge, his white flowers in clusters

Heart-shaped leaves give aromas of mustard

Demands our attention, verdant and bright

But Mayflower's winning the battle of white

Cow Parsley offers its pretty face,

Its frothy white flowers draw pictures of lace

They bob almost regally, sway with the breeze

Seducing your eye with desire to please

"But hark at me, my Mayflower blooms!

My snowy white clusters, frangipane perfume

A heady exhibit for eyes and for nose

Don't let others distract from my tranquil repose"

But night-scent of campion challenges close

And tall Ox-eye Daisies do boldly boast

Wild Garlic creates an impressive crown

It's stellar white bundles make others bow down

Marsh Stitchwort, tiny, but so full of grace

Whilst Snow-in-Summer, our stone walls embrace

Its silvery, clinging, betangled grey down

Endeavours to steal the superb Hawthorn's crown

Yet, as sure as they try, they inevitably fail

Exquisite Mayflower ordained to prevail

Immersing us in its ethereal veil

Its seductive aroma on countryside trail

Ancient lore tells us 'all' of the Hawthorn's intention

Its powers of healing, divine intervention

To announce spring's fertility, a brand new beginning

Weaving peace in your mind; creativity brimming

Ahead, all I see is a blanket of white

To ease in days of summer, erase winter's blight

And whilst butterflies woo any flower in spring

The abundance of Hawthorn, in May, makes it king