My love of the woods brought about this poem.
Gray clouds hide a once blue sky and a rainbow tiara's the hills on high. Brown trout do swim in a river so clear, grassed banks are milk to fawning deer.
The flowers of spring are all in bloom, and Pan plays to lovers a merry tune, while Cupid aims his arrow straight to pierce the heart of a lovesick mate.
The Red Squirrels store is all but done, ti's spring and they must turn to fun. For next seasons store has yet to grow, so earth will provide from beneath late snow.
A lone Swallow dives with open beak, gathering insects which she must seek to feed her young nested in Holly bush, high above that of a bright eyed Thrush.
A sweet spring, enchanting to behold, such a season when fairy tales are told of Brock and Felix and Toad of Toad Hall, in Throckmorton Wood with it's animals all.
Tags: