a poem by Brian H. Gent.
The month of March has come at last,
The worst of Winter now has passed,
But, until it’s really Spring,
March will have her final fling.
Rain must fall and winds must blow
Before we sharpen spade and hoe;
Nature needs no hand of man
To help her with her future plan.
Snowdrops bloom in wood and field,
Chill winds never made them yield,
Crocuses in drifts close by
Turn coloured faces to the sky.
Gorse and heather on the moor,
No wonder that our spirits soar,
To see their colourful display
Overcomes the dullest day.
Willows show a hint of green,
Waters still reflect the sheen;
So many signs to bring us cheer,
Now that another Spring is near.