Oratorio

Winter’s puritan fury has abated;

Snowdrops are the first to appear

In the wind-hammered garden,

Tentatively filling the stalls 

On either side of the chantry.

Above, broken vaulting of branches 

And slabs of cloud in a cold blue sky. 

Too delicate for this barren place

The snowdrops shiver in the bitter air, 

Their tinkly bells rousing the sleeping

Daffodils, whose waxy trumpets blow 

The first sumptuous notes of an oratorio;

Buttercups and daisies burst singing 

Into the green knave, followed by arias

Of crocus and hyacinth, pink and blue

Duets from cyclamen and delphinium and

Soulful recitatives from long-throated tulips,

All building to a choral swell, a crescendo of colours

Sparking and flaming in the iris of the eye; 

Flowery thuribles puffing out incense to lure

The flirtatious hoverfly and libidinous bee

To sweet revelry among the sun-heated petals; 

The birds, too, descend from their sapphire heights

Marvelling at this earthly radiance which glows ever

Brighter, as if night will never come again:

The little choristers have long since departed,

Having no idea of what they started.