Unfolding

A few days of warm sunshine, and everything is unfolding from a winter's sleep.

Fingers crossed Mother Nature is not playing a joke.
 

Were I to live a thousand years,
 I still would know that flaming thrill,

That rush of joy when first appears

 —the golden daffodil.

A thousand times my heart would sing

When purple irises unfold;

Or when forsythia's branches bring

Their dazzling showers of gold.

I could not see an almond tree

With branches all a rosy glow

But that a tide of ecstasy

Would through my being flow

Were I to see, a thousand times,

Blue scilla bells amid green grass,

I know I'd hear their fairy chimes

As I would pass.

Were I to live a thousand years

I'd never watch the nesting birds

Except through eyes bedimmed with tears,

My tongue bereft of words.

Were I to weave ten thousand lays,

Knew I a thousand songs to sing,

I still would lack the power to praise

—the miracle of Spring.

Silver Lining ~Wilhelmina Sitch 1888