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.
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.)