of daffodil-drenched verges,
trumpet heads calling for bud burst
and bird song. Even morning frosts
gleam with freshness full of life.
This is a time I should walk more:
with a spring in my step (pun intended).
Outdoor chores to be fixed and mended,
to get on in the garden before
boredom strikes again and I’ve
concocted lots and lots
of reasons for doing other things first.
I should right now use these initial surges
which I fear are not here to last.