Brightness, darkness, falling both softly from the spring-time air teasing dormant life to growth turning green the golden hair of grasses dried and brittle now to the Pleiades they bow in thanks for rain, which brings new life to pools and ditches, dark and rife with strange concoctions, shadowed roots, tendrils fine exploring through the muddy depths to find a new embankment where they push up shoots. Brightness falls, the rains of spring Closing now the season's ring.
My wife has been painting "wetscapes" recently: local scenes of ditches and swamps and streams, filled with spring rains (February is spring here). The line "Brightness falls from the air" is from a poem by Thomas Nashe, mis-remembered as "darkness falls from the air" by Stephen in James Joyce's "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man".