Exactly when does spring begin?
– an equinoctial measurement
in our circle round the sun
the obvious signs of fertility on earth
or the lusts in us
the way the skies re-shape
our perception of twilight
and the new zest and fountaining
of dawn choruses sparking
the forums of this fabled
yet fallible season
when blooms the narcissus
when return the hirundines
The spring tide moon in our
bloods
moves archaic rememberings
up through the gears of miracle –
the year's first bumblebee
the tortoiseshell's wings
diaphanously unfolding
the swell of whispers in the woods
the new zing of laughter
in children at play
when quarrels melt
and new passions drive
our parliaments of peace
befriending healing
discarding the clutter and detritus
of clogged-up yesterdays
mending our broken dreams
wrestling all from sullen silences
and long dark winter-hollowed
halls
to lambing and picnics in the sun
the cuckoo's call
the heart's dance in it all
When spring declares it's open
season
wherever whenever
and whoever we are
our thoughts and prayers
rise like scented smoke
and merge to the mighty sound
of wind beneath our wings-
days full of promise are here again
our sights hitched high
yet humbled
by the grace of wonder and of awe
as the light settles
the blackbird sings
and hope crafts our tomorrows