Whatever the Season Throws - Diane Scantlebury

What is that strange light
In distant yonder
Punctuating the dark?
What sound on the breeze
Makes a rabbit’s back arch and stiffen
At a barely audible canine bark?
When did the dawn slink in?
It was pitch black
A moment ago,
Now with red rimmed eyes
It blinks awake
To put nature’s beauty on show,

But the day it brings is cold and sullen
The horizon is smudged with grey,
Winter firmly hauls down its shutters,
Keeping any hope of warmth
At bay,
Yet one bold bird stands defiant,
No escape for him
To the south and France,
Surveying the world
From his bare branch perch,
Whatever the season throws
He’ll bravely take his chance.

Diane Scantlebury