Yes, February may be viewed as the start of spring in some cultures. And, yes, I am writing this post as snow blows in over the North Downs on a below-zero wind. Still, the thought of warmer days and brighter light keeps the winter blues at bay, even so long before the changing of the clocks. Hence this little poem.
Day comes up full of willow buds
Yellow as yellowhammers
And dusts the path with daffodils,
With flaring saffron crocuses.
Between long cirrus clouds, citrus light shakes out
The splash & flash of goldfinch wings.
An early brimstone butterfly ascends
Creamy yellow on skeins of invisible updraft:
Away, it lifts away, drifts away
Over banks brimming with primroses.
And now on the morning of the springing clocks,
Here in this first week of a northern spring,
The flame has turned,
Sun’s fire has burned
From winter’s crimson plum
To spring’s bright lemon light.
© Lizzie Ballagher