Turning the corner
the stream of spring is nearly here

Winter thaws as sun, knocking on its door,
glints occasionally through the grey of winter’s reluctance
and finding hold, gives a garden back, brings newts to my pond
as insects rise from a cold, watery sleep
and dance in a haze that promises summer

Then the lid is back on
‘no, no’ says the cold season
‘you shall not sit in your garden
and enjoy the song and flight of birds’

But every morning the dawn will knock
and shaft by shaft the sun shall break through
until the hope of warmth wins against winter’s cold grip