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. 




It could be you. Join our team of readers.

If you would like to make a recording of this poem, click here to find out how.

More people are writing and thinking about work-based poetry. Does this poem make you think of anything? Send your thoughts to

Send a poem you've written or one you like and we'll share it with other WorkInWords readers


Work dominates our lives. offers you a place to read and listen to what people think and feel about the work they do. Please send us yours with this link or email:


Our key words are: Read | Listen | Work | Feelings | Experiences | Attitudes | Behaviour

© by Organisational Poetry.

Proudly created with

  • Black SoundCloud Icon
  • Black Facebook Icon
  • Black Twitter Icon
  • Black YouTube Icon
  • Black Instagram Icon