February riverside walk

The welcome promise of spring
seems to be cruelly snatched away
by the return of cold, grey winter
draining the land of colour.

The winding riverside path
is a quagmire of squelching mud.
The dank air reeks with the rank smell of fox
and the dry bones of the reed rattle in the breeze.

But alongside the path, cow parsley and cleavers
thrust forth fresh fountains of green.
The air is filled with the incessant call of great tits
punctuated by the harsh ringing laugh of the yaffle.

The pussy willow waits patiently
for warm spring sunshine
to turn its furry coat
into a halo of golden anthers.