~

nap beneath the catkins  (  sniktac eht htaeneb pan  )

…

budding with the roses

rising like a plinth

roaming of a morning

seeking hyacinth


higher, cries the iris

up the bastard hills

croaking with the crocus

sniffing daffodils


green are england's pastures

pale's the ermines fur

pace the paths of woodland

as the branches purr


nap beneath the catkins

snoring forth & deep

winterland has thawed

- but -

spring is still asleep

...