Waves of drizzle,
Thaw on the grass.
A far away thunder
With piercing bass.

The red rising sun
Spreads light on the ground.
Fresh leaves are growing
And conquer the mound.

Last snow melted away,
The nature gets green.
Songs of colourful birds,
So lovely and keen.

Everything is growing,
Aromas in the air,
Animals are awoken,
Are leaving their lair.

Flowers are blooming,
Bees follow their smell.
Butterflies are flying,
Landing on Campanulas bell.



(c) Peter Schwanemann (13. Februar 2010)