Poetry of the day

             Springtime, ageing

    First as a hint that it is not final,

    the abiding sense of ending

    at a sudden narrow end --

    like a beast cornered,

    a hint you disbelieve fearing

    yet another falsehood,

    the long winter slackens.

    Then disbelief is undermined

    by hope you had thought

    had been banished,

    and it slowly turns

    first as outrage

    that winter`s enormity on your soul

    was not your final revelation

    but yet another heedless twirl,

    and then as exasperation

    at the huge task of learning

    the world all over again.

    It is different if you have

    things to look forward to

    of course,

    or if you live

    in different latitudes.