SPRING SONNET

Now, as holy Spring does just that, right here
To rise and bring in the heathen new year,
Conservatory doors swing wide open -
So mow the grass as the leaves glow greener
And buds grow and brighten; hearts now lighten
And float on the warmer breeze cradling bees
And seashells hung high above bluebells chime:
Now, now, now, they ring out, now is the time!
There in our garden lair, we now retrieve
From their webbed slumber deep in the lumber
Of the musty, cool and dusty toolshed,
Alfresco table and chairs; find lanterns
With wine and music past later sunsets,
We agree: this is as good as it gets.


(2008)


Our garden isn't very big but it is secluded and south-facing. The front of the house is very dark for most of the day and consequently we spend a lot of time in the conservatory watching the seasons change. This poem is the first in a sequence of four sonnets about the seasons.

I think it's true that people tend to notice the natural world much more as they grow older. It's certainly the case for me and Spring, in particular, with its annual transformation, both imperceptible and sudden, never fails to inspire.