a poem for March

The End Of March ‘It was cold and windy, scarcely the day to take a walk on that long beach Everything was withdrawn as far as possible, indrawn: the tide far out, the ocean shrunken, seabirds in ones or twos. The rackety, icy, offshore wind numbed our faces on one side; disrupted the formation of

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this year’s snowdrops

Every February, we declare a Snowdrop Sunday, searching out swathes of snowdrops in one grand garden or another. Itโ€™s one of my favourite days of the year, filled with the promise of spring.

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