The sun rises swiftly, beholding the earth,
with reflections on water, like brass,
a faint tinge of yellow sparks softly against
the new-growing green of the grass.
Deciding that now is the time they can show
their sweet-scented petals again,
the tiny spring flowers grow upward, and spread
their faces to capture the sun.
What glory there is at the starting of spring,
encompassed in these tiny flowers.
The hope – sprung eternally – into our hearts,
that new life forever survives.
Lambs gambolling out, to the edge of the field,
discover this secret melange
of primrose, and crocus, and daffodil, too,
in mixtures so bright to arrange.
With hops, skips, and jumps, the lambs run away,
to anxiously find mothers lost –
it happens quite often all over the day,
from the first touch of dawn until dusk.
The trickle of water, so cheery and sweet,
the faint sounds of calves as they play,
the greetings of strangers sound out in the street,
as the darkness of winter gives way.
The faint buzz of insect life starts with the warmth
of a spring sun so gentle and bright.
The sounds of birds mating, and building their nests,
continues by day, on ‘til night.
The beauty, the sweetness, the freshness of spring,
delights in its own special way.
A melody, brave, of Earth’s quickening stream,
of Nature’s full force ever played.
Written 26/04/2010. Published with Poetry.com, 2013.
The Night Owl 