As child, I wandered ways like these
And marvelled at the grace and ease
With which these tiny spears of Spring
Could rise and shake off Winter’s cling.
A wiser self smiles back at him
Who knew not these were Alpine kin
Which lived for cold and days like these
That mirrored mountains’ solid freeze.
But does this change the greeting bright
When muddied boots trail freezing night?
Not one jot! Young soul replies
from depths of Self that love surprise.
©Copyright Stephen Tanham 2017