Season of chill breezes and blue skies,
When the young sun shines its clear bright rays;
Striving to warm the shadows of last winter’s chill
And call again to rouse the sleeping daffodil;
To swell buds and explode pale young leaves,
Open petals, release scents, for eager bees.
Bursts of blossom bedeck the cherry trees,
Where blue tits dart, and swoop, loop, chase and play;
Busy redbreasts hop by with beaks of grubs
To feed their hungry nestlings through the day.

Time’s stepped forward; we wonder at late light,
Cast off winter’s cloak, stay out in the air;
Expecting longer days, and warmer nights,
We join picnickers on grassy slopes, stare
Into the distance, across the London sprawl,
At wispy clouds, or crossing vapour trails;
While gardeners and allotment holders think ahead
Of seeds to sow, fruit to net and rotating onion beds.
Who has not felt Spring with joy and gladness?
Who hasn’t smiled, and released winter’s sadness?

Where are the songs of Spring? Where are they? The
Wheezing greenfinch, warbling robin, trilling wren,
Lowing cattle now wander fields of green,
Cows with angular suckling calves are seen;
Bordered by white blackthorn, the fluffy sheep
Watch tiny, frisky lambs gambol and leap.
The snows are gone, ice frosts melted away
Cold streams rush over stones, under bridges
To reach the sea; with light refreshing rain,
Life is reborn, and Spring is here again.