Hanging like kippers
the catkins are tickled
by the Spring sunshine
on their washing-line branches.
Autumn leafage still blankets
the waking soil
with its sodden browns;
while crocus raise their heads
and snowdrops bow
their silent bells
to the changing
of the season.
The frogs are frothing the garden pond
with their amorous synchronicity
thinking no-one can hear
their throaty grunts.
Twiglet laden crows
tarry on an aerial
catching their breath
and a tit-bit of gossip
with their neighbours.
The artist of spring
is preparing his palette
for the blossoming of colour.
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