Distant hedgelines froth in lacy ribbons, Blackthorn attired with subtle fragrances.
Willows burst into softened bud as the Cherry begins to dress itself in wedding wear.
The Plum joins in the race to find its dazzle in the high pressured times.
Paths have become treadable once more as the waters of winters recede.
Honesty shows itself and Primrose gently forms its creamy clustered resonance.
Ramsons darken their early green and scent the breeze with garlics hedonism
Lambs frolic in freedoms game as ewe milks flows in these hills once more
Weeks behind the lowlands rush these Berwyns take their time in Aprils certitude.
A thousand Sparrows quarrel in the Ivy bough, Daffs continue to radiate a golden waft
Nettle tips proliferate, so too the rugged Dock in early vigour
Daisies patch in timid strength their petals parsing promises.
Tis a bad year for slugs ive heard, too dry to offer countenance they struggle to mate and suffer the fates of arid fortune. Cloudless days of yesterweek saw solar tariffs rising and
Seedlings strengthen hourly in the smile of natures radiance.
Geraniums spread their carpet wide creating shade for spiders hidden
Bees begin to bumble around in search of nectars open allure.
The pond ripples with tadpoles in tango, fizzy in their busy tingle, alive from jellied past
Trying hard to escape the clutches of hungry newts who rise from depths below.
The Kite soars and circles, circles and soars, ever watchful, ever hungry.
Blackbirds trill their song of seduction, an ovid time of musical mating melody.
Warmth finds its welcome as the ways of ceaseless wonder wend and surge
Bare torsos of Oak, Ash, Chestnut, Sycamore offer their nakedness to the days ahead.
Soon will they dress themselves in greens untold and all that waits
In pursuit of the Lilac and the Elder which stream ahead in early rapture.
Pigeons coo their syllables from honeyed throats as the orchestra awaits the cuckoos lead
Early verses of stay-at-home avian audio alive to the moments breath and patient in their wait for the curlews call. Unheard as yet the passing honk of geese in transits return.
Carson spoke of a silent spring and yet within this moment not silence but a rhapsody
And riich sounds in tapestry amidst the dance of flora.
Distant choruses of farmyard ensemble and the beginnings of buzz, hum whoosh.
I spot the glisten of dews own glory and rejoice the story i am told in Aprils passing.
Alive to all that sings of spring and longing that these days will reach the hearts of all.
In noticing we amplify its truth, this is what eternity feels like, this is why we are here.
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