Long Lines on a British Spring
Where has Spring gone on this day of storms and sunshine blowing desperately
from the bitter North?
Has he hidden in the forest in the ruddy foxes den with sqealling
new born cubs?
Has she hidden amongst the silvery slender beech trees
surrounded by the baby soft fresh green leaves?
Is he bubbling under the surface of the wind ruffled pond
filled with frogspawn all glistening with a watching black eye.
Is she cocooned in the hedges in the tiny wrens nest, under wing,
safe inside a buff speckled egg?
Where has Spring gone on this day of snow and hail and blustery cold
that bites at face with Winter's teeth?
Spring is here amongst us now, and she is playing with us,
as we poor mortals forget again just how changeable she is.
Welcome Spring!
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