Although the weather outside (here in central Spain) is hotter than a normal UK summer would be, I’m reminded by Google that today is the first day of spring.
This blog is in desperate need of an update, but if I want to get out there and enjoy the sunshine later on today, I’d better get some work done, so I’ll settle for posting a poem:
Spring
March skies leaked
milky sunshine; now it lies
in primrose pools on the embankment.From ivydark, zodiac
periwinkles blink, then stare
where caterpillar catkins dance
with bumble bees. Under the trees
a crocus campfire kindles.Gold permeates the air: the blackbirds
have been drinking
daffodils.
(First published in Poetry Scotland, 2005, which is quite appropriate, as the ideas started to germinate on a visit to Irvine some years ago.)
don't confuse the narrator 
March engines leaked
warnings of summer, but they lied
and dribbled queues on the bus stop.
An oilscum maniac knows
ways to stop you thinking. Go spare
with the craic to catkin a dance
with bumble bees. Under the trees
a thought burns too strong in a mind:
Petrol permeates the air.
Blackbirds drink and don’t know why
Daffodils are petal-bare
where March engines leaked.
(not a tenth as good as yours)
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Mine’s only as good as it is because you insisted I re-write it half a dozen times, so thanks for that. Thanks, too, for your reply here which offers up more things to think about each time I read it.
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No, yours is as good as it is because you’re a good writer of poetry who cares about your craft. If you didn’t have me encouraging you to improve your drafts, you’d soon find somebody else, and if you found nobody you’d encourage yourself.
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