Occasional Poems

Spring

First paragraph of my previous article About This Life in poetry format.


Spring 

Stop for a moment, listen, can you hear it? 
Like a strain of music in the distance, lost, then heard again. 
Spring is coming. 
Hope gathers itself in the soil, 
the songs of the forest are changing, 
optimism lifts the air. 
Spring is nature’s trampoline,
propelling colours like prayers on butterfly wings. 
The returning Sun hovers over the horizon, 
its first warm glance stirs the animals, 
the rivers become light, flowing away from the past. 
The morning mist harbours happier spirits, 
the short cold days make the turn for home 
and the space harrowed within us fills with thoughts of summer. 

Every year we are handed the keys to a room hiding a lost love,
open the door, start again. 
And there is nothing this wayward technology, 
this vaudevillian pretence, 
this false life, 
can do to stop it.