Just after seven

The mild winter has brought blossom to the trees in central London.  Snowdrops are appearing in the garden, a reminder that we will have the joy this year of discovering exactly what our garden contains.  Ironically we are having a cold snap just as the days are starting to lengthen noticeably - and yesterday morning the birdsong at dawn moved me to write a poem for the first time in ages:

© Teresa Newham 2012

Today a thrush was singing to the dawn
just after seven.  A clear and frosty morning
as though an unseen Hand had spread a sparkling veil across the land.
I wondered: did he sing for joy
or simply to keep warm?
or was he singing to the trees -
calling the sap to rise, the Spring to struggle from its knees?
Today a thrush was singing to the dawn
just after seven.  A clear and frosty morning.
A glimpse of Heaven.