spring again

white blossom

It’s a grey day and bitterly cold, but tonight is the spring equinox, which is as good an opportunity as any to post some seasonal photos and re-post a seasonal poem.

orange-trumpeted daffodils


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

I think the photos must count as seasonal as they were taken today. The poem is some years old, though, and written in a year when spring came a little later, I think, judging from ragged state of the primroses I found in the park. (The crocuses were so far past their best it wasn’t worth walking across the grass to photograph them.)


Author: don't confuse the narrator

Exploring the boundary between writer and narrator through first person poetry, prose and opinion

3 thoughts on “spring again”

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