Monday, March 10, 2014

6. Spring tidy

Soft behind the woodpile
after the damp dark and decay
of a Winter’s wet and chilly hand
the disturbing light of day.

I’d swear that she was blushing
as the timber curtains spread
or was that ‘amour’
flushing –
her cheeks and toes so red.

But they were slow to scamper
from their fond embrace;
as if such rude exposure
were just commonplace.
Soon the pond will fill with action,
at our neighbour’s pad,
with tiny tadpole attestation 
of the fun they had.

1 comment:

Christo said...

Delightful - well done.