The Silver Birds

Oh timid whispers of the wind

You seem to wish the summer in

You call to her in warm caressing bursts

Blessing all with a touch of April sun

The weeping willow has begun

To cascade her flowing leafy locks 

Into the flowing tender breeze

Where flocks of silent silver birds

Sweep above her outstretched natural green

Between Forget-Me-Nots and Saffron Meadow  

Unfurls a sea of Primrose Red

Shadowed below as the sun arose

Swirling yellow overhead

Serene the toothsome cherry trees

Sprouted from the cherished soil 

Uncoils each outstretched blossomed branch

That carries the fruit of nature’s toil

‘Oh blessed are the weeks that see the seasons change 

Where tulips flood in silky bud from out of winter sleep

And Mother Nature keeps those flowers 

Fresh upon the grange

Allured by the tender touch of April’s falling rain’.

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