courage and hope have returned.
Strange things are happening,
lifted into being by mild airs
gently blowing along the river valley.
Snowdrops appear everywhere,
in hedgerows, verges, under trees,
in great abundant sheets or maybe just a tiny clump or two.
No matter how many of them there are,
they clothe and hide rain sodden earth,
and gently nod their delicate heads in affirmation
of what is sure to come.
afraid to show their faces still,
but give them just one sudden shower of sun
and they will open up
their golden hearts.
In a sheltered nook
daffodil spikes urgently thrust their heads above piles of leaves,
great, blowsy, golden trumpets
to sound a clarion call to wake the slumbering world.
Spring flowering shrubs
have long ago decided that their time has come.
A little tentative still,
but determined to wait no longer,
they unfold their golden bunches.
A curtain of humble catkins,
of willow, birch, or oak
what more of reassurance do we need
to tell us that a change of season
is just around the corner.
we are not finished yet with ruffian winter.
But do your worst,
rage against the waning of your powers,
send storms and floods to devastate the land,
the scent of spring is here,
if only for today.
Take a deep breath,
sweet, faintly, hesitantly,
the scent of spring is in the air.
It will be spring again.