Summary
SPRING Today, the calendar says It's Spring! it's March... The wind, blustery, bitterly cold, as the last Block of ice melts, into the darkness of the boundary fence.
From my window, the sycamores, and limes Are deep grey, rough in colour, and altogether fetchy. But the sky is Pthalo blue, Flecked with clouds, you always painted as a child. An early cherry, is struggling to survive The elevated firs, choking it.See the full content of this document
Extract
Reader's Poem
However the buds are beginni...
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