The shortest month has come and gone,
St David’s Day brings hope of Spring,
But rain and floods bring misery
To thousands forced to flee their homes.
A shard of sunlight sweeps across
The grass. A searchlight seeking out
The yellow crocus, glowing bright
Amidst the sparkling morning dew.
And high above in swaying trees
The rooks build their precarious nests.
They clearly think that Spring is nigh,
As do the blackthorn’s snowy flowers.
And soon the golden daffodils
Will spread their vernal cheerfulness
Across a dark expectant land
Awaiting warmth and sun-drenched days.