The wind had died down, at least for the time being, and the sun was making a determined effort to shine. In fact, in sheltered spots in the garden, Algy could even feel a hint of warmth, although the air still felt unpleasantly chilly when he took a big, deep breath.
The weather birds were saying that there might be a couple of pleasant early spring days ahead, before it turned much colder again, and it was evident that the plants were making the most of the opportunity, for some of the trees and bushes in Algy's assistants' garden were beginning to dress themselves in bright spring green.
Resting gently in one such bush, Algy could hear not only the birds twittering and singing in the trees round about, but all kinds of mysterious rustlings and whisperings, and when he listened very attentively, he thought he could detect the words of an unusual poem:
Got a date with spring Got to look me best. Of all the trees I’ll be the smartest dressed. Perfumed breeze behind me ear. Pollen accessories all in place, Raindrop moisturizer for me face. Sunlight tints to spruce up the hair. What’s the good of being a tree if you can’t flaunt your beauty? Winter, I was naked Exposed as can be. Me wardrobe took off with the wind. Life was a frosty slumber. Now, spring, here I come. Can’t wait to slip in to me little green number.
[Algy is listening to the poem A Date with Spring by the contemporary Guyanese poet John Agard.]
