First Season Poem by Sally Plumb Plumb

In the brown, bramble hedgerow
dreary leaved, last years nest is deserted,
and a filigree tree
asserts branches awide.
The snow on the hill
is melted, and gone,
while a crow pulls at worms
in the sunny, spring field.

A ditch at the side yields
the first flush of flower buds,
a recent display
to the power of the sun.....
A patient old sheep
grazes slowly and gazes
and understands time
now spring has begun.

Sally Plumb