From behind the double-glazed glass
I see their branches softly sway
To the rhythm of a symphony I cannot hear.
The wind plays his pipes,
Perched on my rooftop tonight,
And the trees are dancing.
Softly I open the window;
My chimes and dream catchers
Join the revel outside.
And the piper in grey and blue
Sits on my windowsill
Shapes are dancing in my eyes,
Shadows laugh and lightning cries.
Whispers scream, cold is hot,
Up is down, right is wrong.
Fever dreams haunt me tonight;
Full moon howls in clouded skies.
Come the dawn when I awake,
There’ll naught but fears a-fade.
Deep in my delirium though,
I am calm and safe and home.
None can harm me in the fire;
None can reach me is my desire.
Some say that spring starts on the first day of March.
Some others say it starts on the Spring Equinox.
Some choose dates, some choose signs,
“Has the hawthorn flowered yet?”
Silly semantics, that’s what I say…
Spring starts when the land starts to bloom,
When the sun shines warmly, even as the wind
Shifts from biting bursts to playful nudges.
When the birds sing themselves hoarse
And the market stalls are bursting with colour.
If spring is beginnings and not just a time
To shift through your wardrobe for something more light,
Then why set a date when each year is unique?
Turn off those screens, just step outside,
The first day of spring is not something to miss!