Chaffinch in the gorse

 
Last night's snow melted from the roads
dawdled in the wood hiding from the sun
losing every minute despite the cold.
Rabbits scamper through brittle ferns
leaping across our path, a full six feet
the only sign of life today.
That's a lie, hazel buds are smiling
cheeky grins as scales fall,
pale leaves peep out, to join the birch.
Soon March and hope returns,
ferns to lace the woodland floor,
rooks, survived the shot-guns
will build again their scruffy nests,
badgers dig a little deeper
chaffinch in the gorse.