Swaddywell Spring

Winter hues of brown and ochre under a blue sky.
But I can sense a change in the season.
The afternoon sun that paints the cliff face gold
Now warms my back, relaxing my body. 
Silky-pawed catkins burst forth exuberantly,
And the gnarled sallows thrum from
The vibration of many bumblebee wings 
Whose owners feast on pollen and nectar.

Nature is on the move.
Violets and colt’s-foot brighten sheltered slopes
And the winter silence is banished.
I hear the two-tone call of the chiffchaff  
Newly returned from southern lands.
The thin melancholy refrain of the robin,
And, hidden among the reeds,
Toads gently sing their song of love.

The illusion of peace is shattered 
by the sudden bloodcurdling squeal of a water-rail.