Evensong - The Betjeman Poetry Prize

I was 12 when I wrote this, and was really pleased to win 'Best nature poem', Betjeman Poetry Prize 2019.

The path runs with a river

of cow parsley and campion.

White and pink,

Air heavy, honeysuckle sweet

draped over hogweed heads which push up

and up in fat green knuckles

to grasp at hawthorn

her clustered blossoms like

fragile snowflakes, slowly melting.

Blackbird sits amongst the buds.

Black against white.

Dappling the path

with his evensong

which unfurls in spirals and swirls

like the tendrils of vetch,

moving to the pulse of insect hearts

softened by dusty moth wings.

He sings for me and I listen

until the trees disappear into dusk.

Grey upon grey.

Until his song slips into silence

and we flow

safe in our secret

towards a new day.

Me reading Evensong in St Pancras Station -