March

March

 
Come down !
With wind’s shiver
spring is at hand,
leave town for the river,
green is the land !
 
 
In stealth early flowers
opened their eyes overnight
to mirror their beauty
in the rivulet’s light.
 
 
The way
through the meadows
eases your yearns -
such day
without shadows
rarely returns.
 
 
The lark now for hours
sings its song from the sky,
 begins to beguile me 
  that my spirits fly high.
 
 
Let’s run
to the green grass
daisies to find 
for fun
will soon pass.
Tears lurk behind.
 
 
© I. Beddies

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