The first brave buds slip through the snow
little white flowers the first to grow.
Small they are but sturdy stocks,
little bells like fairy frocks.
Cold and brisk, but sunny day.
Birds in branches noisily play.
Snow is melting, time for Spring.
A sight to make the birds all sing.
Crocus show their pretty heads,
Pushing up in garden beds.
Soon the blossoms will appear,
Then its Springtime that is clear.
Birds are nesting, raising young.
Yes for sure the Spring is sprung.
Love this Janice ;o)
ReplyDeleteHello, Janice...I found you on Valerie's blog as I was visiting the REDnesday participants. Your poems are delightful, and surely express your thoughts. I, too, just started a separate blog for my writings.
ReplyDeleteHave a glorious day,
Marianne