Spring it is
That brings the snow
White Blackthorn flowers
Upon the bough
Icy fingers
Frost the cars
Feverish commuters
Scraping hard
Blackbirds forage in
Crisper leaves
Seeking to find
What lives beneath
And Robin selects
With care, a bed
To build her nest
Within the shed
So March begins
New life transcends
And Cherry tells
Of Winter’s end
Martin Addison – 04/03/2014



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