When I woke up this morning, there was frost out on the lawn
Just before the sun came up and just before the dawn
I felt a special moment — felt the world just hesitate
Pausing for an instant just outside my garden gate
There was nothing to witness, nothing evident to see
And yet there was a sense of something coming back to me
A sense of something warm and loving, beautiful and real
Even though that something is just something I can feel
What I felt so very near was the sweet touch of spring
A sense of peace and harmony lay over everything
The beauty of spring skies at dawn so fascinate the eye
It’s great to be awake to see a spring day dropping by
Maybe this special moment is just something in my head
I do not care, I know it’s there — not much more to be said
And in the early morning with the frost still on the lawn
That special moment’s all about a spring day being born.
A solo swallow
flies south,
drawn by an unseen force.
Returning to the land
of her birth.
Her rear feather’s
splaying
in an impudent signal
to the tail end
of winter.
A single swallow
does not a spring make
and the chill wind
bites cruelly at
old bones.
A tiny child
garners the last daffodil.
Her lilliputian foot
pressing down,
on nine daisies.
Shared ancestral origins
long forgotten.
Called home by a karakia
heard only as a faint flutter
in their tiny hearts.
The unbroken,
maternal line
linking both to Aotearoa
and Papatuanuku
held only by love.
More swallows
join the old one,
building nests for,
a new dawn, a new day,
a new generation.
Swallow, Child,
returned full circle.
The journey home complete
but not entirely
Scot free.
Both welcome,
in a sorry world,
fraught with trouble.
Heralding another gorgeous spring
and hope renewed.
Ake Ake Ake
Forever and ever
Behold, the vernal equinox
Has once more rolled around
The earth renews
its vibrant hues
above the stirring ground
Resurgence of abundance
The promise of the new
Hydrate the earth
For the coming rebirth
Of nature, me and you
Adorn my nakedness once again
Restore my cloak of green
Bring forth new life
In this paradise
Where Coasties reign supreme!
There’s a spring
Where the life gift flows
and the heart’s hope grows.
Everything
Has a fresh, new chance
and it makes me dance.
I’m planning my summer tucker.
I’m practising kapa haka.
I’m learning
and I’m yearning
For the spring.
There’s a spring
In my step today
and I’m out to play.
Everything
Has the buzz of fun
and the rabbits run.
I’m dancing the kanikani
That leaves me feeling funny.
I’m spinning
and I’m grinning
In the spring.
Let me paint you a picture,
Let’s go on a journey
Close your eyes and really try
To pick up on the energy
You’re sitting in a field.
The fresh smell of spring air fills your lungs.
The aroma of blooming flowers consumes you, and takes you back to when you were young.
Back to when nothing else mattered
But the play that was at hand
A freedom without limits
Be it dirt, grass or sand
Time stops, as you take it all in
Appreciating the moment alone
The wind catches your hair
Now it’s really starting to blow
Listen.
To the gentle sounds of nature.
To the beauty of the world around you,
How skilled is our creator?
Hear the birds that sing their song
Stop, and look, and listen
Springtime brings a smell and light from which every petal will glisten.
Not too hot, not too cold,
But somewhere in-between.
Of all four seasons, spring is the time, there’s always more to be seen.
So next time you’re out and about
From September to November
Take a moment to breathe the air
And allow yourself to remember;
The world around us is ever changing
And that is clear to see,
But locked down or not, our world is beautiful,
How lucky are we?
I am washed in the melted dew and dried like the clouded breath of a winters morning
I sit spun as a spider’s web
Insides twisted like the poison ivy vine hugs
Body blushed pink battling the unforgiving frost,
The sun has now risen
Spring has begun, the world has begun
Flowers are in bloom now, their colours steep under the sun’s gaze
The breath of spring exhales tiny pollen grains,
Petals frolic in the breeze, synchronised like dancers,
The world has begun now the sun has arrived,
I have been picked up by the golden grasp, I flutter amongst grains of pollen,
I steep like the petals,
My body stained in yellows reds pinks blues, I radiate
I grow and bloom and grow again,
I have begun now,
Blinded by a golden light I am washed in honey as the world glows.
The sun has set now
My colours tarnish
My petals wilt
I fall from the sky,
I sit spun as a spider’s web,
My insides tangled like the poison ivy vine hugs,
Body blushed pink battling the unforgiving frost,
The spring has washed over me again,
Come back golden hypnosis
The gelid breeze is fading but it’s presence still appears
The stigma skies fluster my emotions
I envision the various colours spring offers
watching it bleed in the air.
I see purple, yellow, blue and green, overwhelm my dimly lit atmosphere.
As I crave the bright lights to settle the curiosity contained in my head.
Now, what does spring have to offer me, I say to myself
As I look through Google searching for the knowledge on the top shelf.
But, I find nothing.
You’re bluffing, I say to Google.
I typed in, what is spring?
It came up with a bloody trampoline!
Reality fades back in with a cold snippet snapping me out and waking me within.
The winter has been cold-hearted but the spring has bloomed hope.
Through the mental health I suffer from daily
It feels good to see the petals grow to a rose.
Tuis swoop,
their wings chopping the silence,
the night shift relieved,
by the police helicopter.
A girl,
at the A & P show,
hair in two pigtails,
the part-line exposed,
a line burnt down the centre of her head,
matching the jersey of GGHS.
A flatmate harvests,
tender shoots of abundant green garnish,
rash, upset gut,
don’t be fooled by the faded spring onion label,
those are daffodils…
Driving through a paddock,
in the dark of night,
flocks of rushing white demons,
eyes glow red in the car headlights,
jerky, demented dancers,
first to see the light,
transform,
into frolicking, sprightly gymnasts.
Squelch, squish, slip, skid,
the school field out of bounds,
bulbs flopped over,
leggy, lank, long, no flowers,
Tāmaki Makaurau saturated,
yet, water shortages anticipated.
The first butterfly of spring,
the cat chirps,
she flies out the door,
soars through the air,
triumphant,
clutching the monarch in her mouth,
she’ll personally ensure,
the downfall of an entire population here.
One broccoli,
only one broccoli grew a head,
ten others went to seed or are simply dead,
more spent on seedlings, soil, fertiliser,
than Countdown prices.
Still,
I’d do it again,
but maybe the tomatoes will go in pots instead.
And,
when they don’t flourish,
I’ll head to Teesdales,
and then I’ll know:
I’m home, and summer is here.