Little Spring Moon

Moon of snow and ice hung
over the winter field.
Huge,
long moon shadow
stretching over crunch of grass and shard of puddle.
Long nights moon
When it was dark at tea time
and dark when we woke and shivered into morning clothes.

But March arrives with daffodils.
Chill sunshine sparkling on winter-smeared windows,
softening early frost and dancing
with the crocuses down the lane.
Chiffchaffs flit from branch to branch.
A sky lark sings high, high above my head.

Before the sun sets,
Little Spring Moon is there,
Chalky white against the pale blue sky.
And then again, when the sky darkens, deepens to evening blue.
She glows and, through the bare branches,
sends a promise.