Hawthorn

An eagle eye of the Druid clan
Is sent out to observe
And his main plan
Is to watch the hawthorn
Transform into
A maiden green
With locks that do

Shine in the sun
A creamy white
From a craggy bent
Old man whose light
Had gone out more than a year ago
Long in the tooth
And had lost his flow

Stand under the May
On a sunny day when a breeze kicks up
And it’s branches send
A wealth of blossoms
Almost like snow
Fragrance down
On those below

Edged in scarlet velvet brown
The red admiral
Back in town
Rarer these days
Than before
Arriving early
To explore

The early nectar
Wondering why
So few humans
Passing by
The air is clean
The sun is out
And spring has sprung
Without a doubt