Morning (Spring?)
I awakened this morning, opened the terrace door, looked out to life, a storm had passed, the sky in ragged edges, the wind still in waves and strong across the tides of sky and empty trees, clutches of daffodils danced and trembled, in choirs of yellow, singing in colours, blind to the hour, and the coming of spring,
And as I walked along the puddled pathway, overgrown with clumps of grass, the blossoming silence of blue forget-me-nots, my eyes were led to the gap between the tumbling, broken, garden wall, the rambling wild rose, towards the rush of wild waters, the running river, in floods of sky,
For now is April, the first, of light, of warmth, of the lengthening hours of days, I knew that winter at last, in showers of silver, steel and grey, in life and time, has left beyond the eyes of Spring, her dreams still awakening the kiss of summer, in her dawning eyes of reds and blue, wild, anew, with life ablaze.
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p1964km@googlemail.com
