Spring’s in the willows
Down by the river’s creek
Spring’s folded in the arms
Amidst the trees so meek
Spring’s only a whisper
Riding soft a ray of light
Spring is Summer’s sister
Glowing just before the night
Spring silent and so very wise
Always there yet still surprise
Spring a warm paternal eldreth
Winter’s final gentle breath
Spring higher perched upon billowed clouds
Under the field’s wild floral shrouds
Spring’s the Mother the nurturing force
The world’s renewal our recourse
Without the Spring what could be free
Without you I could not be
Beauty now as the season changes
So I sit patient to watch the Hydrangeas
.
Words by Oliver Proudfoot
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