a kick up the candlemas

stroll beyond the doldrums

with a springy step

      ladder as the adders stir

      mugs of cup-a-soup

cock-a-hoop’s an oversell

but the day is butterballs

      either or a creaking door

      breathing in the shapes

shifting after shivering

dogs become cats

      catkins purring

      in the morning wood

if proper poets could

gather up these scatters

      should the thicket throb

      with extra gorse – of course

as pampas grass swings

in a gimpy breeze

      – more tea vicar?

      so the crocus croak

february is feathery

in the second’s pastures

      presently the hills & plains

    sunbeams & tractors