Coming northern front sweep away
The foul, warm air back to the south.
Let its chill wind leaven the tree tops
To rise up and dance in its wake.
Above the rustle of empiric leaves
A magpie cackles a hoary song yet...
The bumble queen carries a working
Caring not for boasting, vulgar song
Of how he steals the works of others.
For soon she shall raise her army
Fit for the summer world to armour
To sing into the arms of morning
To claw back all the lost hours.
Stretching now across earlier dawns
The heart cannot ever escape for
Of all the times within the year
This is now the most uplifting to...
Simply be and await the summer