In a single week
spring springs in Glasgow
a leaping jock-in-the-box
a dance of veils
the brittle whalebone filigree
of kohl-black branches
suddenly cloaked in spreading fans
green silk feathers flickering teasingly
amid the pom-poms of candy-floss blossom
bobbing on the breeze of promise
the lithe branches bend, coquettish
the sap rising to the overture of birdsong
recalling every childhood summer
the first remembered whispering
of the rest to come.
(the picture inset is “The First Winds of Spring” by my brother Ally Thompson).