Spring is a venerable lady,

Always welcome, sometimes late.

Demure in her childhood, modestly hanging

Her snowdrop face, and gently putting forth

Her furry mittens on the willow trees.

Crocuses, Victorian maidens, open wide

To the advances of the sun to show their petticoats.

But once the childhood whites and yellows

Have passed, the brazen tulips flaunt their colours

Beneath the white covered branches

Of almond, cherry, apple, pear and plum.

And as the bright young leaves turn sombre

The first roses open in their blowsiness

And Spring opens wide the door for Summer.

photo and text © Gillian Peall


One thought on “LADY SPRING

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s