1442

Equinox

The birds have sensed the turning of the days

And rock-bees warm themselves against the wall.

A robin boasts unseen beyond the twitten

Challenging our blackbird's morning call.

Skirting round the oak wood, as I stroll

To fetch the bread for breakfast, tiny points

Of pink smile from the branches which have stood

Barren since the winter dried their joints

Until this morning's sun - poised midway

Between a winter death and summer joy -

Heralded the signs of love to come,

All the gifts that nature can employ;

            As if I can't recall the endless years

            Your love's been there to dry up all my tears.

Brian Hick March 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 23.3.26