I was sitting at the cafe on Peckham Rye enjoying a cup of coffee when, out of the blue, this poem arrived: a response to the joys of spring. (Why the text appears in double-spacing is something the computer has decreed. But one must rise above these bloody irritations.)
when daffodils jostle with
bluebells, and blossom
fringes boughs and bushes,
and squirrels chase their tails
while birds warble, and dogs
ignore their whistling masters,
and leaves unfurl like
badly-kept secrets, then
spring my love has sprung
Absolutely beautiful.
Perfect!