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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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