The sun is warm, the wind is cold,
March is gone but his memory remains.
Flowers bloom in colours bold,
The air no longer smells of rains.
Out of the door with the rising sun,
I see myself a child.
She skips and twists; it’s all good fun,
When a whisper of magic leaves you beguiled.
Redcaps and fairies, goblins and elves,
Flitting just there! We turn, they are gone.
Do we fool ourselves?
Do we see miracles where there is only the dawn?
Perish the thought!
Everything is as it ought!