Spring Equinox = Yellow
from Magdalen Walks
by Oscar Wilde
The little white clouds are racing over the sky,
And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower of March,
The daffodil breaks under foot, and the tasselled larch
Sways and swings as the thrush goes hurrying by.
A delicate odour is borne on the wings of the morning breeze,
The odour of deep wet grass, and of the brown new-furrowed earth,
The birds are singing for joy of the Spring's glad birth,
Hopping from branch to branch on the rocking trees.
And all the woods are alive with the murmur and sound of Spring,
And the rose-bud breaks into pink on the climbing briar,
And the crocus-bed is a quivering moon of fire
Girdled round with the belt of an amethyst ring.
I had a watercolor lesson all planned for 2 beginners who were coming to the house to learn to paint today; but something came up and they couldn't make it. So we rescheduled for next Tuesday. So instead, I may paint something for myself today. But not before getting outside for a walk and a time to enjoy the neighborhood flowers and trees in full bloom.