The Goddess of Spring

When next the moon, in soft pearlescent mist,
Ascends over these Sussex hills of green,
In dreaming skies of smoky amethyst,
The goddess of the Spring will soon be seen.
She waves her staff and emeralds appear
As rolled buds on each dewy sapling bough;
Frost mellows as she warms the atmosphere,
As warm as winter's vestiges allow.
Magical mandrakes shiver in the soil,
Blooms open in the middle of the night,
Stardust revives what cold air did despoil
Wherever Springtime's dainty feet alight.
Apollo's chariot will cross the sky,
All earth rejoice; the Goddess Spring is nigh.

© by Sara Russell, 2003

 

Spring, 2003

The goddess of the Spring came down to earth
'Twixt February and the first March dawn,
To start the yearly process of rebirth
And strew the first new crocus, lawn-to-lawn,
And field-to-field, to scatter hawthorn bloom
Over the hedgerows of the countryside;
She found only the the breath of future doom,
Of houses with a pall of fear inside.
Winter held sway through promises of war,
From those with power to give or take away;
The voice of moderates was heard to roar,
Yet no-one heard the words they tried to say.
    If this year is recalled for anything,
    It is the year when hate curtailed the Spring.

 

© Sara Russell, 2003

 

A Willo-o'-the-wisp

A Willo-o'-the-wisp in the rain and I
Will have stayed still a tad bit longer at
Our kitchen's smeared panes, peering by and by,
Called, through gauzy curtains, and heard the splat
Of raindrops fatter than your tears because
I forbore to cry over milk that's spilt
In snow as drains away as April thaws
Elusively the coldest spell we've known
Since God knows when! -- nor do my windmills tilt
At your vain demands for greater love, grown
Out of winter's, yours, discontented thirst
For more than hands can bear, or heart at worst.
And so I turned from you towards the door
To open it, bent to rainfall's damp rapport.

Richard Vallance, 2003

April 6, 2003

 

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