What is winter doing
with the likes of spring?
Purple flower propagate
and wolf spiders wander
in the fresh new green.
The wattle begins to bud,
The blowflies buzz
as the first premature mosquito
makes his barbarous debut
There's nothing like a hug
from the winter sun
As we lie supine
The whites of our thighs glisten
as the icy southern wind
licks our legs and sets our hairs upright
The butcherbird has a prodigy
To carry his song
Sporting a fresh new down of brown
to show he will belong
Looking down upon us
his mother beckons with little clicks of her hooked beak
and looks at me with refulgent eyes
she knows i know it wont be long
we exchange food for a song.
How i love my speudo spring
it's still winter but im not afraid
of what the wind will bring
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