The spring song of a great tit
halted my winter walk;
the next day he was there again,
marking out his territory
so early in the year.
Then the incessant cooing of doves
on our rimy roof,
interrupting my morning ablutions.
Though it’s cold outside
and my heart is playing the blues
there are signs,
signs of something new,
much more than mere signs
of an early spring
which nature corresponds.

Something is stirring
Winter birds are singing spring
They sense what’s coming

Copyright Francis 2021