At the first sight of spring
& in old trees around the town
Brush winter from its wing
No longer flapping far away
To naked fen they fly
Chill fare as on a winters day
But field & valley nigh
Where swains are stirring out to plough
& woods are just at hand
They seek the uplands sunny brow
& strut from land to land
Daily #JohnClare postings
#poetry #environment
Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd
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