The buds know it, the birds know it is due, but winter seems to have forgotten..Where is spring? Or am I being too impatient perhaps.

Bone damp grey

wraps a blanket

round the hour


chill flakes fall

holding no value,

rattling across folded

leaves to no purpose,


only a few

capped in half laced



Birds call take flight

undaunted, scar the

boughs with feathers



A robin sings and

I know..


Spring is but a heartbeat







© sweetwater 2022
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Yes, m’dear, you are being too impatient. It’s only half way through Feb 😉
Although God knows, I share your eagerness for Spring. It always amazes and delights me, just how beautiful the world is.
As I have got older, I have even come to appreciate grey, damp days. Because they hold the promise within them.
Spring is my fav season. You feel the sap arising, bringing new life, new hope, to the frozen wastes, within and without.

Alison x


I thought you were describing the end of the world in the first half of your poem, Sweetwater. Very scary. It was good that you ended on a high note and the meaning of your poem was finally realised. I’m also looking for springtime and the world renewing itself. The best time of the year is nigh. Enjoyed your poem!

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