The barn door shakes, hedges sway
Extra coats come off the peg
A wicked wind finds its way
Up every sleeve and trouser leg

Fires burn all day and night
We mourn our absent Spring
We keep our shirts tucked in tight
Powerless to change a thing

Primrose petals bruised and torn
Birds shelter in the hedges'  lee
Waiting quiet and forlorn
When they all should busy be

A hundred feet above our heads
A skylark sings his song
Reminding us to rise above
Sing loud and carry on