The sun tricks the flowers to bloom with its false brightness, low shine that hits the glass, lights up the smears and makes dust motes dance, as winter sneaks back in.
spring
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A snapshot of my garden 6th April.
Watch them unfurl in the fragileility of spring
Opening our eyes allowing us to dream.
Sun scoots low to expose streaked windows
and stained tablecloths that soap failled to clean.
Dust motes dance without rythm or beat,
As the light stings our eyes and warms our feet.
lettuce and sweatpeas sprout in soil filled pots,
With dafdodills normality comes in restless spots.
But do not be fooled enough to blink or sigh,
For Jack with pointy fingers and lazer eyes
Sends snapping frosts throughout night skies.
He burns lime green leaves until
they are as as black as Magpies eyes
Stomps on plants with leadend boots.
Its plan is clear to freeze the shoots.
Now our gardens spoilled
spring hadn’t sprung
So we begin again
with steaming pile
Of Pony
Dung.
Which is your favourite season and why ? Let me know in a comment
Spring, It Is A lie.
March Marches On
Linda Hill challenges with the word March press here to read or join in the fun.
It was the sound and sight of spring,
That bouncing boxing lop eared thing.
He ruled his paddock won his mate
in his hole next the five bar gate.
The March hare mad as can be
Brings spring to life this morning for me.
Fox stalks his vixen flicks his brush
Jumps atop his choice in a rush.
Twice or thrice maybe more
grinds her into the floor
when her belly is round and full
another vixen he will pull.
March Marches to the beat
of Mother nature’s drum
To procreate
We call her
Mum.
A bit of whimsy to warm your soul and tickle your fancy. I hope you liked it.
Ellenbest24 