How many springs?

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How many springs

Can one year yield?

Across changes of time

Central Europe, Greenwich mean and BST.

Snowy flower-trees

And sweeping winds

Carry me further

Than I’ve been so far.

These recent weeks, the setting sun

– from rocks to waves,

From shore to shore

Elevates the mind.

Not far from home,

There is a spot, offering views

Over the oldest tree,

Which slowly blooms.

And every day,

From early spring

My task is to watch

For subtle changes.

A single petal, a tuft of leaves.

Beware, the first stirrings of Spring

You may find they free you

From winter echoes…

“To keep me from the lake

Is cruel torture.

To see it glisten from afar,

Watch its waves beckon,

Waver in the weak winter sun,

Is it necessary?”

And so I ask, and venture out to see

How many springs

Can one year yield?

– L.M

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I remember sitting on the swing

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I remember sitting on the swing

just outside the house, hearing the birds sing.

I can still feel the sunlight, warm on my face,

my heart was slowly beating in its steady pace.

The swing moved but I was resting as if in a freeze,

only my blonde curls were restless in the breeze.

I stayed there for what seemed hours,

thinking of princesses, animals and flowers.

I could be lost in a world of imaginary creatures

and sometimes I would later tell a story to my teachers.

Swinging back and forth on the swing

made me feel happy and I wanted to sing.

There were days on which I would actually dare

but seeing me sing there was rather rare.

All quiet and peaceful, I was brimming over with mirth:

honestly, the swing outside was my favourite spot on earth.

-A.K.

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