Rising.
Such a rising it makes
when Spring
dries winter\'s whiskers
on sap\'s shawl
then calls with its very
first daffodil.
When snowdrops\' faces
grow white-tall
and race the clumps of
wild pink thrift
which, daisying cliffs,
flank the moor.
When sun warms spears
of rain-green grass
and berry- vines crawl
to spawn new
shoots for an autumn\'s
black- fruiting.
Such feathering of days
when wings
compete to fill beaks with
thin slivers
shaped by parental fight
for tiny offspring.
When changes creep thru
each hedge and
lay quick claim to waking
bloom-buds that,
sleeping softly in fox-glove
velvet find life again.
Such clamour it is when
day\'s new light
climbs full length the sky
and streams rush
to clear room for wood\'s
bluebell ripening.
When nature\'s rank smell
turns rapacious
and March\'s voice pipes to
start wake-up tunes
Spring flowers soon pick
up the pace.
Such rising it all makes.