Welcome
My spring is coming late, With the first turf-fire’s scent Heralding winter on the wind. But still I sense a change, A time of flower or bloom, Warm and sure of self despite Not knowing exactly what’s to come. And so, as if ’twere random seeds I’d thrown to carry on the breeze, To land and grow in chances unforeseen, So forth erupt new visions, thoughts and dreams To decorate these pages that were clean.