tagNon-Erotic PoetryYou can tell

You can tell

bySweetOblivion©

The sun is setting further north each week
and local blackthorn bushes are in bud:
the tiny creamy dots burst out to seek
the sunshine that, though pale, dries out the mud;

This crisps around each hawthorn that displays
its leaves, in sheltered spots, where winds won't blow
or gust to murder snowdrops amongst sprays
of daffodils that now begin to show.

So, come on spring and let the winter pass.
Nature's alive again and each chill spell
has less effect upon the spreading grass,
refreshed by dew and growing. You can tell
the house martins, next month, to sally forth
from Africa to sunsets further north.

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