Sheela’s blossom dream

One late afternoon as the crescent moon
swung into sight above her  
a wren landed on Sheela’s cold stone corbel
like a droplet of happiness.

Its song was loud and shrill for one so small
but it brought her a dream of such promise,
Of wild cherry and apple blossom,
of blackthorn handing the baton on to bridal white hawthorn.

Wren and Sheela made eyes at each other
until their hearts grew plumpcious like two fat strawberries 
warming on a window sill.

A bee emerged from Sheela’s secret sanctum
with a big orange shopping bag of nectar 
pollen speckled its body 
like a constellation of stars.

All the ways of love bee hummed.
All the ways of love wren and Sheela chorused.