Fay Slimm.

Aurora.

 

 

Aurora.

 

Film of fine bubble-wrap mists early dawning

as curls of light creep through root and blade

where dew drips vapours while time scatters

Spring with avian urges expecting surrender.     

 

Throb of excitement drives feathered chorus

to echo woodlands as trills fill high branches

and serenade-burst descends round twitters 

of welcome to fountains of virile plenty.

 

If ever awe could be measured for freshness,

scaled for lucidity or gratitude--weighed

it has to be now at the sound of birdsong       

just as Aurora is making her entrance.