The treetops echo with the throaty hoot
of woodpigeons, nuthatch whistles
and the resonating thrum
of woodpeckers. All colours glow:
the orange of the blackbird’s bill,
the new green leaves,
milky wood anemones and golden celandines;
through the dapples stray
the first few butterflies.
Soon the swallows
will wake from hibernation
and squirm free from the mud;
from every pond
in ones and twos, then flocks,
like huge blue mayflies
pulling themselves free
of surface tension
and basking to dry their feathers in the sun
before a first flickering flight of spring
to gorge on midges.
I quite like the idea here, but the language is a bit earthbound at the moment. hohum.