Late March

Late March (07). For any who may be interested, 'Late March' 2006,  is typed beneath this one.

Well, long since now did I my foot align,
Over a small clump of growing daisies;
The number of these was, at least, three threes,
Which adds up to a, fresh faced, group of nine.
A folklore sign that we've entered springtime.
Though, not testified, true, by leaves on trees,
It's started the chorusing birds to please.
Hardly to them only does this confine;
Blossoming through are, everywhere, flowers.
Green is borne on some sprays of hawthorn,
And wood pigeons coo, quite loud, is sounding.
If still we await the April showers,
And shimmering displays of waving corn;
Yet forwards this, new-shoe, phase is bounding.

Seasonal Sonnet Memory Lane. This 'Late March' was first typed into Allpoetry.com on: 1 April 2006.

                Late March.

Little doubt that springtime is with us now,
With birds nesting and even tulips here,
Hopefully far more tulips will appear.
New crops, as tall as the blades of the plough,
Whose deep furrows did first those seeds endow,
Their stems, quite soon, will the harvester sheer;
By then rare golden ripeness should be clear,
When the harvester reaps them in and how.
Also, bumble bees are starting to fly,
Hidden nests they'll build in the nooks they find;
From the infiltration of rain secure.
A butterfly, I've seen, whose wings did ply;
Bright brimstone yellow, like saffron refined,
Though wih pinions small that in flight were sure.