Daffodil buds struggle to poke
their heads through the snow
that’s beginning to melt under the sun’s gaze.

Overnight, a blizzard blows
come morning, the land is lying
under a white winter blanket.

Spring seems a distant memory
the trees still stand stretched bare
banks sleeping under the snow
but still hope holds on.
Spring is coming – we will
start again.

Saltash Morning

The sun is warm on my feet

and I sit, back against a wall

listening to the birds twittering in the trees

and the gentle hum of traffic

plays in the disnace.

The water’s edge is nearby

and the sound of a boat horn

fills the air. A cat prowls

Across the grass, dew clinging to its paws,

sunlight drowning it, as the day begins.