The maiden

Makes me think that ...

She is fickle as the buffeting breeze 

Her onslaughts of rain 

Turning as abruptly to floods of sunlight 

 

Her touch is chill yet still brings with it a glimmer of warmth 

The scent of mown grass, rich earth and the sweet perfume of new life emerging 

Her presence alluring, her attire frivolous 

 

She comes bedecked with garlands of budding flowers and trains of blossom 

Changing the world from a bare, grey drudgery 

To shades of lush greens, vivid yellows, subtle pinks, purples and dazzling blues

 

She frolics in the tumbling flight, the scudding clouds

Flirts with the returning song

And only fades as the flowers turn to fruits 

The imagery of the transition of the seasons is caught so well in these words. 

R.Amor

2019

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