SPRING OFFENSIVE

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And the Crocus war is over.

Their jaunty liveries

Washed back into the earth…

The daffodils hang their heads,

In mourning, or from the pouring

Of sodden April showers.

 

The land is a morass

Boggy and pooling,

Sucking shoes like quicksand…

And you wonder… If not Spring

Then let’s have Summer!

The leaves peek lime green from the boughs,

Like a timid child edging out of doors:

Is it time yet?

Is it time?

Let’s hope the Sun will return,

By some great physic

Or incantation.

 

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