The goddess of Spring
Slips through the woodland,
Leaves bright splashes of colour
Where her feet have trod
Of new leaves and fronds unfurling.
Petals and buds uncurling of
Bluebells, pale windflowers and golden celandines, pink apple blossom,
Yellow deadnettle, wood sorrel, primroses and violets.
As she weaves her way ‘twixt bush and tree
The birds follow her
In riotous assembly of song
And flashes of colour from breast and wing
As they feast
On caterpillars in the new-burst foliage.
The brook gurgles happily over its bed of stones
Where temple maidens come to gaze in its watery mirrors,
Their long hair trailing in the current.
They listen to the babble of the brook
as it whispers and chatters its tales of things seen and yet to pass.
Shy animals make their way to the edge to drink:
A silent doe with huge, liquid eyes with its nervous fawn.
A quick squirrel, frightened by the sound of a raucous jay
dips in a timid paw and turns to race up a nearby tree.