Sunday, 12 April 2015


Cyan blue sky, kissed with clouds of Angel´s breath,

God´s strewn gems, of plumed flocks returning home,

Ready for love games, released now from winter´s death,

Bud-headed blooms, shot straight from dark silted loam.


Firework flowers, exploding upon balmy awaiting world,

All Splattering floral graffiti, upon kerbs & concrete walls,

Emerald fringed leaves & tendrils, so creepingly unfurled,

Spanish primavera waltzing, through joy bedecked halls.


Operatic bird song, serenading in trilling love-lorn tunes,

Summoning pretty hens, dressed in springtime plumes,

Primavera weaving magic, with help of ancient moons,

Air now heady, with the uncorking of Gaia´s perfumes.


 Soft petals, leaves & feathers, all dancing & pristine new,

All daubed by nature´s paintbrush, in God´s invented hues,

Tripping through floral fields, inviting me to skip & sing,

Primavera, my primavera, I love you my Spanish spring.



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