Larkin, Vivaldi, Monet and a walk in the park

Walked in the park yesterday and found myself looking for signs of life on the trees.

No joy. Too early.

It was around 4.00p.m. and still light.

Yet felt as if something was being signalled.

Nearly a month after the shortest day.

And in that month all but unbroken cold.

Wanting it to be Spring doesn't make it so.

But in anticipation here's Philip Larkin.

THE TREES

The trees are coming into leaf

Like something almost being said;

The recent buds relax and spread

Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again

and we grow old? No, they die too.

Their yearly trick of looking new

Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still unresting castles thresh

In fullgrown thickness every May.

Last year is dead, they seem to say,

Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

……

This should be read just before listening to Vivaldi's Spring Suite….and then read again as it finishes.

Yes.

Honestly.

Try it. 

Oh, and then admire a Monet!