Birdsong Poem by cahen thrips

Your hair's bedecked with snowdrops;
at your feet the first greening of crocus
and in between a solitary golden aconite
pushes through the lignite soil's fuse.
Above a robin sings to you - for you alone
while on steel wings a high buzzard mews.
Perhaps you can feel spring becoming but
I would you could see it from where I stand.
Even more, I wish I could feel the soft
impress of your loving hand in mine
as it was at the end of last winter.

February 2023