The day awakes
and slowly stretches
under its grey covers
and the morning breeze
stirs the leaves.

I hear bird-song
rising along the hedges,
in brilliant bubbles of sound.

And all around the scene
colours brighten,
dark turns to brown
and grey to red

I look down
on flower-bed and lawn;
taste from the crimson cups
of tulips;
hear golden fanfares
from the daffodils;
smell the sweet flare
of apple blossom;
follow meandering
flight of bees;
and see sharp starlings,
beaks askew,
spiking the grass
quiet with dew.

And then I turn away,
from the real day,
to my computer screen.