The Vernal

The ice witch drips, moisture to ground.
Mother rolls round, tips her hat to the sun,
whispers warmth to field and forest,
gentle the gestures, change has begun.

Ditch and hedgerow bursting maternal,
gather their shelters from leaf and moss,
popping blue bells call time on all listeners,
the bridge between seasons is ready to cross.

A whiskered twitch, sniffs out from burrow,
blankets of leaves are folded away,
high flying birds sense their calling,
gaggle and chatter, will fly today.

Bright yellow fanfares bunch and bustle,
orchestral flora tune up to play,
earth conducts each buzz and whistle,
batons of sunlight held by the day.

Natural blood begins to rush,
frisky feet follow courtships dance ,
hungry mouths find teats to push,
Springs in our step, life has its chance.