Sap

Spring Again.

No denying the signs.

Rates bill. Crocuses on cue.

Daffodils rearing up

Like golden puff-adders.

Open to the neck, voices

Are louder. Unmuffled.

The lid lifted off the sky.

In the air, suddenly,

A feeling of ‘je sais quoi’.

I take the dog into the park.

Let myself off the lead.

– Roger McGough