A walk into Spring

The air is heavy, odour-torn

with blossom-sprinkled, sweat-soaked grass,

and petalled trees dipped in the spawn

that bathes new life with droplet glass

full-brimmed, in morning’s scent-brushed swathes

of warmth and honeyed rose-lipped haze.

Soft colours spread in saffroned light

of rising sun and flesh-tinged sky,

infuse each scene with new insight,

and flood all other worlds run dry

with sucking thoughts and blotted past,

each vision drunk as though my last.

No human tongue to break this round

of nature’s calls, whose chattered song

plays urgent music’s fluted sound,

reverberates all morning long;

clamouring food for throated nests,

bursting with life that never rests.

Fine-dusted breeze thrills every pore

of down-blown skin and brimming eye

that floats my senses through their door,

and leaves each care a passer-by

who walks into this spring-flushed dawn

where night’s undone, and hope’s reborn.