The Goddess of Spring
When next the moon, in soft pearlescent mist,
over these Sussex hills of green,
In dreaming skies of smoky amethyst,
The goddess of the Spring will soon be seen.
waves her staff and emeralds appear
As rolled buds on each dewy sapling bough;
Frost mellows as she warms the atmosphere,
warm as winter's vestiges allow.
Magical mandrakes shiver in the soil,
Blooms open in the middle of the night,
revives what cold air did despoil
Wherever Springtime's dainty feet alight.
Apollo's chariot will cross the sky,
earth rejoice; the Goddess Spring is nigh.
© by Sara Russell, 2003
Tom Thomson (Canadian: 1887-1917)
Pines, Georgian Bay (1914-1915)
The goddess of the Spring came down
'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;
found only the the breath of future doom,
Of houses with a pall of fear inside.
Winter held sway through promises of
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 in the rain and I
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
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