The Early Spring  - Poem by Gert Strydom
Its early spring and I hear the sun-beetles telling about summer
there are frogs croaking, crickets that shrill continually outside
and golden yellow the moon rises and changes everything to a magic land
but the still the chill of winter does torture me when it comes.
Comments about The Early Spring  by Gert Strydom
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.