Brave Lupins

Col did no metal detecting over the weekend, which says that while he is recovering well, he is not fully back on line as yet. So the sandwich fairy was off duty, though that did mean had she to come up with something else for lunch.

In fact she came up with pretty much the usual, chicken vegetable soup, followed by berries and yoghurt.

And I am wondering if I can write a lupin poem... along with the short story about a canal boat.  The short story begins with an empty canal boat, moored up, apparently deserted in a great hurry. Why?

But the lupins... memories... my father's of the scent of the lupin fields of his childhood, and mine of my father's garden lupins... getting that into a Haiku would be quite an achievement, one that even the great Matsuo Basho himself might hesitate over.  I did get the memory of the lupin fields of Belarus into Disraeli Hall, but that was a novel, not a poem.

Lupins, scent, fields, small green garden parasols...  the line  small green garden parasols would work in a poem, as that is what the little shoots turn themselves into.  Seeing them was like being in Fairyland, which (as a child) I always hoped I might find somewhere.

I guess that was the longing that is inside all of us for the paradise garden that was lost - but never forgotten.

It is lost in the past, we cannot get ourselves back into it, as poor Alice found, but it lies ahead for us, here on the earth, if we will only listen to our Creator.

The poem should be on these lines:  Small green parasols, in fields and gardens, in fields in Belarus and then in a Yorkshire garden. So no poem as yet, but I just found this lovely translation of my favourite Basho haiku "Old Pond", and hope it will inspire me: 

old pond.....
a frog leaps into
water's sound

 https://allpoetry.com/Matsuo-Basho

So - I will leap into my Lupin poem, with a great splash, having now realised that the shoots should be parachutes, not parasols, especially as daddy was a para in the war:

The Fearless Lupin

by MatSue Knighto

Green parachutes

no iron curtain

could hold you back

you travelled without

permission or passport

from field to garden

to visit the young country

lad, grown up.

Maybe I could call it a Texan Haiku, as everything in Texas is reputed to be supersized.