The Bluebells hail the morning sunrise
tears of dew grace stems of green,
the valley nestles in God’s franchise
foliage awakening across the dene,
here a spring morning reigns serene.
Morning tide enhance sweetness of the songstress call
buoyant curlews in oceans of copious grass,
wave after wave shattering against dry stone wall,
spring dances to the rhythm of the weatherglass
obeying whimsical whims from the moor top pass.
Song Thrush calls reveille
morning in infancy
penetrates the valley,
spring day of clemency
portrait of regency.
For Francine Roberts contest english quintain
A Spring Day 7th Feb 2012