Done to the rhyme scheme and meter of John Donne's 'A Valediction: of my Name in the Window'
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Today sun smiles upon those buds that at the end of March untent, set to display their sweetness soon, hoping the weather will relent, for once arrayed the market there must stand. Gruff winds, brute showers, leave the land.
Then there wild bees must buzz - and those collectors do not pick and choose: 'No nectar's neglected by us' is their byline, working till blues forget themselves Prussian in quiet dusk and day's drained to the very husk.
This March I've not yet seen (and dandelions also absent are) one levitating bumble queen, though I keep hope's door ajar. Wasp with gravid abdomen I did see, passing by hedge-side steadily.
Who's first? Apple or pear? For both could crack tomorrow with our shout; or no anticipation bear, forbid our thought bring aught about; but take time as a seventh swell, gently lifts a bather in a green sea.
