The sky in the east fades from inks and indigos to softest dove wing grey.
From shadowy corners colour seeps;
the green in the leaves and the brown in the trees, dawn rises with gentle ease.
It's time to raise your sleepy head, lift aching bones from soft warm bed.
Time to turn from night to day, away from welcome dreams,
to face the waking world instead.
But take heart my love. Listen! Can you hear the black-thrush sing?
Fear not the dark days for he heralds Spring!