Nine days into the cruellest month
there are no lilacs breeding out of the dead land.
At the beginning of April winter still kept us warm,
covering earth in forgetful snow
feeding a little life with dried tubers.
It was the memory of spring which sustained life.
But soon spring rains will stir dull roots.
Lambs defy the chill winds from the East,
and the first rays of the sun melt winter’s cover for the last time.
New life is emerging all around us,
there is no gainsaying nature's determination to overcome.
Secretive primroses nestle on sunny banks,
at noon opening their golden faces to unaccustomed warmth
and rock cress clings to stone walls,
keeping a precarious foothold in the narrowest crevice.
(with thanks to T.S. Eliot)
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