A Gift of Daffodils

An Ex-Patriot Thinks Of Spring

In January snowdrops push

Their sleepy heads through ice and snow,

To shake their white and emerald bells,

While we wait for spring.

On February’s sunny days

The crocus flings its petals wide

In gold and purple majesty,

Then spring is on the way.

Beset by March gusts, pounding rain,

The daffodil on sturdy stalks

Waves cheerful trumpets as we pass

And spring is here again.

On sunny April days we walk

By green and mossy country banks

And gather creamy primroses

And then we know it’s spring.

In May through wood and copse we stroll

To stop and sigh and wonder there,

At bluebells bobbing mile on mile

To celebrate the spring.

When Rose and Lilac scent the lane

We know that spring has yielded now

To summer’s warmth, and buzzy bees

Know spring is on the wane.

© C.Valentine 2009