... springing up everywhere
Nipping out at lunchtime for a brisk walk.
Cold air biting.
But she senses change.
The season is turning.
Slowly mustering energy, awakening from its slumber.
Today I saw the Catkins blow,
Altho’ the hills are white with snow:
While throstles sang, “the sun is good”,
They waved their banners in the wood
They come to greet the lurking Spring,
As messengers from Winter’s King.
And thus they wave while Winter reigns,
While his cold grip still holds the plains.
Oh, tho the hills are white with snow,
Today I saw the catkins blow!
Dorothy Una Ratcliffe