Welcoming Spring

The first of September came, and went,
But it wasn’t Spring, not yet.
Birdsong could be heard in the morn,
And lambs frolicked while calves were born.
The bees would be busy, and pollen filled the air,
I’d sit outside and feel the breeze through my hair.
A palette of colours could be seen in bloom;
Daffodils, freesias, snowdrops, and flowers that give off a sweet perfume.
It would be past six when the sun would set,
But it wasn’t Spring, not yet.
Spring wouldn’t be here until they came,
Tiny black bodies, and heads a red flame.
The Welcome Swallow.
When they were ready, they’d be here,
Same as always, year after year.
As Spring followed when you saw the first swallow.
But it wasn’t Spring, not yet…
As the sun set, I saw the tip of a wing,
They were here, to welcome Spring.