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Poem	from late december onwards the day comes back but not till february do we see those glimpses that let us take deep darkness off the rack and shake it free of lethargy that cramps us through those dim months we’re made amanuensis to what loud rain and bitter spells dictate we seek bed early and must get up late long january’s puffing in the right direction but its early mornings keep that midnight feel it still is subject to the date’s dejection but once it’s over – see how light can steal through cracks of trees and curtains - beneath the keel of the eastern skyline (rocking like a boat surprised so early to find itself afloat) and from the earth presentiments are rustling as cheeky snowdrops hoist their periscopes within a week a mass of them is bustling and white becomes the flavour of the slopes and people flock invigorating hopes seasons (they say) have forfeited effect on one snowdrop-look and instantly dejection is whipped (though biting winds and brooding skies) away from the pure white cream the eyes are lapping a frisson blooms as every bloodstream tries to come to terms with its own natural sapping and from the earth reorganise that mapping that reaches out to plot those far endeavours a spirit yearns for (wishing its forevers) so walk away – no spread of simple flowers can change the limitations we must live with snowdrops come and go – our fickle powers play havoc with the talents we can thrive with it’s just that february comes and lo - forthwith for one brief snowdrop moment there’s a blaze that lights the world up with its splash of praise
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