2018.15 Suffered a Sea Change

Woke to grey fingers
Legacy of last week’s sweat -
Spring’s gait hitched again.

2016.17 Contradiction

Winter stirs the blossom white
Our Springtime warmth is out of sight.
All I dare to hold
Is governed by the cold -
The sun seems far too slight.

2015.11 - Sunday Chorus

Hark to the song of
The summer to come,
The deep-throated thrum
That's as welcome as bumblebees

See how the sleepers
Are quaking and waking,
No, I'm not mistaken:
They're breaking out daily.

The greenery rattles,
The shade loses thatch,
As a million grand schemes
They are starting to hatch.

In the gaze of the sun
There are things to be done,
And plots to be spun
Now that next door's begun.

Yes, the ode of the mower,
The whack of the hatchet,
Says winter is over
In blade-breaking racket.

#26 Carousel

This originally had a very different final stanza. I like it a lot better now.

I may be confusing you
With summer days -
Eyes for gazing into,
Reflecting endless skies,
The dart and shift-skimmer
Of dragonfly laughter, a voice
Lilting as a breeze
Through heavy nights.

I think I might be mixing you
With spring - fresh beginnings,
Cold giving way to colour,
Toil giving way to hope,
The scope of one sun-smiling hour
Gilded with infinity
Amid the shifting light.

It's possible that I've
Intermingled you with
Autumn nights -
The exhilarating spin
Of wind-bellow crashing
Mellowed afternoons,
The swish of vibrant signs
Kicked up and caught in books.

It occurs to me that we
Stand gripped as if in
Winter's stark, metallic absolutes,
Rooted in the waiting earth,
The silence of anticipation,
The deep and simple choices,
The dreamtime gathering of strength
Before the promised thaw.

#23 The Poet Cautiously Removes Her Jumper

Another challenge form - my first triolet, though something looks a little wrong - if there's a glitch, please let me know! :)

Summer's here at last
And the air sweats insects
Nothing moves too fast
Summer's here at last
All too soon it's past
But now it's nearly perfect.
Summer's here at last
And the air sweats insects

#18 Printemps 2

The season brings its
Own bright colours, dancing in
Pink, white, and yellow.

Trees curtsey full skirts
To flirt with nodding buds, the
Lush spurting green spikes.

Warm gusts chase clouds that
Fade with each breath, no longer
Pall - decoration.

I stride, breathing deep,
Letting Spring leap into me,
And laugh with each step.

#1 Printemps

She peeks,
Bright and unreliable
She coquettes, pirouettes,
As yet untouchable.
Yesterday, late,
She turned a twinkling eye
Over her shoulder,
Fingers still extended
To her father.

Today she faces us,
Her smile almost unbearable
To starving eyes.
And despite ourselves,
We wag cautious tails
Among shivering pink
And thin green decorations,
Hope that hand she raises now
Is beckoning.

Appetite no longer dulled
Amid anticipation's bones,
We feel a warmth stir
That we'd long supressed,
Pretending stoicism,
Looking forward to the rest.