When Primroses blush out in spring
and verdant strands wrap boughs greener
each morning, the genteel preener
gently flutters a newfound wing

There, above the water she sings
rippled song in dulcets cleaner
than the echo of a stones throw
from Narcissist growing leaner

Above Amethyst's glittering,
below Redwood's hard tawny bark,
there she sits, softly twittering,
a songstress taken for a lark

Yet no folly flows from the ring
of her ephemeral dayspring
for she is one to make the mark
for a new season's measuring