When all the land is cold and dead,
upon the merest springtime thread,
tiny snowdrops bow their heads
to dance.
In amongst the melting snow,
dainty skirts of waxed white glow.
Curtsey to the morning light,
and dance.
Around the tree stumps,
down the path .
Tiny angels, almost laugh,
to dance,
in winters aftermath.
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Just lovely,thank you for sharing.
Sometimes we take nature for granted, but there is so much wonder if we take the time to see. Thank you, I have not seen a snowdrop in some years, so perhaps that was my motivation….
Elizabeth – some poem – wow!
I know from many years bitter experience that one doesn’t get pieces like this very often. Treasure it.
Truly ‘Multum in Parvo’ – so much in so little space.
Howard
I have always found snowdrops enchanting, thank you so much.