Crab Apple Tree

Hoar frost nips buttery daffodil coronas.

Slender blooms quiver yellow in otter water.

The fleece of the fat fretting foot-sure lambs is lank.

Finger-cold winter tries hard to snub fluffing spring.

The black yellow-eyed cat teases a tabby tom.

Nesting crows bend deadfall twigs to their beaks;

They caw harsh collective complaints at the furry flirts.

Mottled mackerel clouds crest unmown hill meadows.

Brush-hairs of sunlight varnish the tree barks with gold.

The oval ruffle-edged crab-apple leaves open,

Pointed to tip, fresh keen green upsides dappling stone.

A fringe-stirring wisp lifts milky-cheese undersides.

The buds surprise us with crimson and salmon pink.

White-pearl and yellow centres clamour for the eye.

Bees will buzz soon to full voluptuous flowers.

Branches promise scented summer pendulousness.

Autumn’s ripening will bring apple-wrestling robins.

The sun-bliss of lake sings Spring's soul-song to the sky.
Ripples rush through the reeds, restless with love's longing.
I am restless, like water on the feathering edge
of an oar or a boat on the rise of a turning tide.