Walking in East Blean Woods today, the ground was carpeted with wood anemones
The coming of spring always makes me think of Dream by the Moody Blues
When the white eagle of the North Is flying overhead
And the browns, reds and golds of autumn
Lie in the gutter, dead
Remember then, the summer birds With wings of fire flaying Come to witness Spring's new hope Born of leaves decaying
miniature forest of moss
As new life will come from death Love will come at leisure Love of love, love of life And giving without measure
Gives in return a wondrous yearn Of a promise almost seen Live hand-in-hand And together we'll stand
On the threshold of a dream....
Love these trees, they seem to have their arms around each other!