‘Yes, I know the days are cold
and the trees howl in the gale
that drives aslant the sleety snow.
Scudding clouds carry full sail.
‘Green shoots stir on bank and hedge.
Snowdrops whisper, head to head.
Pale and low the sun sends out
beams of cobweb-silken thread.
‘Patience now, the world will turn,
once again you’ll hear me sing,
calling out it’s winter’s end,
carolling the Song of Spring.’