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Spring will come, morning, Walthamstow
By: Maggie Freeman
The Poem
You will grasp the closed curtains and tug them apart
opening your heart to the clear window
over the dark-tiled roofs of the bungalows opposite
the heavy grey clouds will crack
so veiled sunlight can enter your room, then
the clouds parting further
shafts of sunlight will strike through
they will burn with pink light the frail petals
of the cherry tree on the pavement
its fine twigs will dance in the strong breeze
free-flying birds will pause their flight
to sway in its magical branches.
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