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Fresh sap is rising
in the trees,
sweet honey running
for the bees.
The birds are singing
in the breeze
and lovers all
have grass-stained knees.

For spring has sprung
it's in the air,
old Mother earth
lets down her hair
and pretty girls
with shoulders bare
will soon have need
of new pushchair.

It’s coming!

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It's coming!

Hills silhouetted
With knife-edged clarity
Against bare-fingered trees
And the background hilarity
Of suet-plumped birds
In the timorous sun,
Bullish beginnings
Of an early spring, sprung.


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Tiny yellow trumpets, 
Heralding the Spring. 
Makes my heart go thump, it's 
Enough to make me sing.

Spring Lambs

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Spring Lambs 

Spring lambs are 
Bouncy little things. 
Jump up and down 
As if on springs. 

Would fall lambs then 
In fields of clover 
Not stand up, 
Fall down, lean over?


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Woody fingers silhouetted, 
Spring sap rising warm, has wetted 
Buds which break out in the sunlight, 
Leaves unfurl before the bun-fight. 
Birds find voices, sing in choirs 
Courting couple, stops, admires. 

Cherry blossom, pink confetti, 
Winter blues, forgotten, petty. 
Springtime bloom, a time for giving, 
Breathes fresh life in all things living. 
A chance to start afresh, renew 
So where'd I put that barbecue? 


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Golden browns
Subtle reds
Autumn winds
Nature sheds.

Piles of leaves
Lie in heaps
Naked trees
Squirrel sleeps.

Newborn buds
Peeping through
Promise Spring
Start anew.
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