Spring Morning

How Near Spring Must Be


   Clear blue skies greet us here this morning, crystal blue with not a cloud in sight cradles the early sun that lights up the flat lands of the east, early frost melts while bird song rings around the fens like natures own Sunday service.
   A choir of rooks sound out from the great Ash and Oak of manor farm, a good half mile away but their calls echo through the still morning air, wood pigeon court and the tiny wren hops from hedge to hedge, her small fine beak searches every twig. The gold finches are again busy feeding while the first spring green finch arrives on cherry tree branch, so clean and clear his green wing feathers.
   For me a day of garden toil that I will enjoy, jobs of which I longed to arrive through those winter months of ice, bonfire to light and beds to dig with plans to make and seeds to sow when greenhouse is tidy once more, what better way to spend this day of rest.
   No flame to light this day nor dragon to feed just spring sun to warm my bones and natures theatre to entertain, a thousand players will perform and every one a star.