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With the weather so bad, I thought it must be snow,

Those branches lined with blobs of brilliant white

Against the starkness of the bark beneath

Until they shimmered in the early light

And blossom drifted on the morning's breeze.

Surprised, I looked again and caught my breath;

The railway bank was dappled, overcome

By early Spring, as if a lingering death

Had been laughed off and shafts of the unseen sun,

Oozing through the trees, touched some with gold

And warmed each sleeping bud, returning hope

Of rebirth and the end of winter's cold.

So after days of darkness and of doubt

You smile on us with February's rout.

Brian Hick February 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 26.3.25

1347

A  bed

So comfortable

I did not notice.

Brian Hick February 2014