Drip drip, the snow is loosing it’s grip and Winter Wonder is looking tired. She has been dragging her skirts through the fields and turning then to slush it really is becoming bothersome to her as she does so hate to rush.
But who is this peeking through the cracks in the clouds, hiding in the buds of flowers and calling to Wonder but not too loud?
It is her little sister the youngest of them all, most delicate and gentle soul, Silver Spring the song birds all do her call.She is the light touch of a gentle breeze that gently rustles through your hair. She runs her fingers along the branches and makes the snow to thaw then dances on our roofs and paths so it disappears some more.
She is dancing up and down the flower beds and whispering to the buds, “Come on my little lovelys it is time to raise your heads! Waking up the squirrels and every animal that hibernates, hurry hurry she gently coos I have filled your breakfast plates.
Silver Spring is busy waking up the leaves and buds that Autumn Annie put to sleep there really is so much to she has a routine to keep
Silver has to raise the flowers, the blossoms and the buds and prepare the farmers fields so he can grow his crops. Freeing up the lakes and rivers and the little streams as she dances through meadows she leaves behind hers grass and flowers lots of yellows and greens.
So as she wakes the sun and stokes up its warming fire the beauty of her season can be seen like silver glinting off of the church spire! Silver has to work slowly these things cannot be rushed but just like her sisters she is arranging her canvas and her brush.
Silver is very lucky she has such a colour choice , blues, greens, yellow and purples I could go on until I loose my voice. Silver can be unkind and tempt you out to play the sky the flowers can trick you into thinking it is warm enough today.Wonder will be hiding and slip out on tippie toes and chap you knees and make red your nose.
Yes silver is the youngest and in her defence there is much to say she makes promise of what is yet to come and echoes what has just slipped away .
Yes she has the echo of her oldest sister but once she has begun she wakes us all from long cold winter and warms us with a waking sun. The sap with in the trees and plants begins to rise. All the young men and the girls get a sparkle in their eyes.
The flowers and the crops all begin to wake and and grass begins to grow again hear the noise the mowers make. So welcome, welcome Silver Spring we sing your praises anew but now we must hurry off for there is so much spring cleaning to do.
See Pat on the dance floor see her reddy brown hair styled to the last strand dancing with a young man who leads her by the hand. Watch her glittery red dress how it catches the light it is red with silver threads in, she really looks just right.
A group, now have formed around her joining in her fun she smiles and looks so happy her eyes as bright as the sun. She knows the band so well and they recognize her too she has been a regular for so long she knows their set through and through.
Her eyes really sparkle as she sings along with the words she loves it on the dance floor she can be a free as a bird. Her long slim legs all silky end in graceful dancing shoes. It is great out on the dance floor no one knows who is who!
Yes Pat loves it on the dance floor having so much fun she is herself now, no ones wife, lover or even mum. So as the music finishes and floor begins to clear the group call her name and thank her for being here. Her prince charming smiles down at her as he returns her to her table.
He thanks her for joining him , she smiles at him and says “Thanks as long as I am able.” Nothing is ever going to stop Pat if she wants to dance some more, as long as her mobility scooter moves she will be out there on the dance floor!
(The photo used is is of no one I know I found it on the net , it seemed to express what I am trying to say in this poem.)
When I was a child my father used to read to me each night. Everything he read he read with such feeling that in my memory it is all poetry. I have recently started writing poems and without knowing I have a adopted a “ posetry” style. I say “posetry” because some of the people who have read my work have called it so because of the mix and style.
This is one of my favorites of all times.
“WILD SWANS” written by HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSON
HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY DAYS.
FAR away, where the swallows fly when our winter comes on, lived a King who had eleven sons, and one daughter named Eliza. The eleven brothers were Princes, and each went to school with a star on his breast and his sword by his side.
They wrote with pencils of diamond upon slates of gold, and learned by heart just as well as they read; one could see directly that they were Princes. Their sister Eliza sat upon a little stool of plate-glass, and had a picture-book which had been bought for the value of half a kingdom.
Oh, the children were particularly well off; but it was not always to remain so. Their father, who was king of the whole country, married a bad Queen who did not love the poor children at all. On the very first day they could notice this.
In the whole palace there was great feasting, and the children were playing there. Then guests came; but instead of the children receiving, as they had been accustomed to do, all the spare cake and all the roasted apples, they only had some sand given them in a tea-cup, and were told that they might make believe that was something good.
The next week the Queen took the little sister Eliza into the country, to a peasant and his wife; and but a short time had elapsed before she told the King so many falsehoods about the poor Princes, that he did not trouble himself any more about them.
“Fly out into the world and get your own living,” said the wicked Queen. “Fly like great birds without a voice.” 5 But she could not make it so bad for them as she had intended, for they became eleven magnificent wild swans. With a strange cry they flew out of the palace windows, far over the park and into the wood.
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