by Rachael Clyne

Through sticky eyelids
She peeps
at Winter breath
draping the trees
mist-wet grass
early light rays
pierce the day
catching the web lines
suspended from
still leafless branches
dank smells whisper
through thorny hedgerows
soon
it will be waking time
She burrows back
under her
thick blanket
and tumbles again
into the soft pleasures
of her dream

Later,
rolling onto
her side
she stirs once more
peers to see
if their bright green spears
have surfaced yet
their nodding white bonnets
gossiping
spreading the rumour
of Spring’s return.

©Rachael Clyne