Springs Arrival

 

I smell the arrival in the air,

it is the clarity, the freshness of still snow covered land

while sunbeams melt it thus so.

Grian rises in colour as he does when leaving us,

colours o the colours of peach, salmon and gold,

gifts to us from earth awaking.

Twilight descends later and as in the awaking

he bids adieu with colour, the background

silhouetting neighbours spruce and fir.

I see the arrival in the bunny trails

across the garden and drive

seeking out over-wintered shoots.

Tracks majically appear over night

playing ring around the rosie apple trees,

then on to follow shoveled paths.

When the dawning begins it hops off

to its home underneath the veranda,

it knows it will be safe til twilight.

I hear the arrival with birds on wing,

crows have returned from their country home

heralding the awakening.

Their bodies fly with lucidity

slowness of wing, there is no rush, no hurry,

to be about their business.

They seek out winter ravaged nests

ear-marking when mothers return to roost,

murderous aviators on the hunt.