Searching for words
I know they shriek of cliché but
the miniature daffodils are, naturally,
all 'golden trumpets' and 'heralding'.
And my neighbour’s magnolia tree
does seem like an 'explosion' of softness
and light against the grey March sky.
I can probably do better with
the broad bean seedlings:
after their tiny muscular heaves
through the month’s wet earth
they are now shaking off their casings,
revealing their purpose.
This is the truth of Spring,
its irrepressible pulse of growth, renewal.
What else can we believe in?
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