ROUND THE CORNER
'Spring's just round the corner,'
you reassure one another although you wrap up well
as trees still stand in majestic nakedness, a keen
wind stealing your breath away.
The sky wears its winter beauty
thrown in pale gold strands
around the horizon, between- times snowdrops lean white
hoods on the churchyard wall. You hold gloved hands, shiver.
There's a tap-tapping from
the treetops - and again that busy tap-tap-tapping. You stop,
'Woodpeckers?' you whisper, eyes searching the high branches - males
showing off their builders' skills
to fancied females? You hurry
home, spring in your step.