Morning
The light on the garden
Is grey, but the trees
Are hazed with green –
Promising leaves – and
The daffodils are
Still dancing.
There are 2 bullfinches,
Ink-scratched in the
Crab apple, and the
Ransoms are white
In the green, and the
Bluebells are
Blue, blue, blue.
The rooks fling themselves
At the sky,
And the camellia’s
Crazily pink.
There is nothing to fear.
Sarah writes poems 