Terraced olives hug the mountain sides
snaking their contours in ordered lines.
Dense woodland wraps around these groves,
still gripped by dormant winter,
impersonal, withholding and silent.
 

Chromium yellow eye-fulls of joy,
cascading waterfalls of electric sunlight
light up these hills in staccato bursts.
Those brash injunctions to wake up
and let spring burst through –
mimosa shouts her blessings
across the echoing valley.
An urgent heartfelt welcoming call.

While along the shady banks,
like blushing teenage virgins,
occasional clumps of violets,
carry their purple beauty shyly.
Hiding among the protective weeds,
They offer a softer hidden message 
with a quiet voice, for the ‘serious seeker’.
Reassuring, modest and safe.

And even though the mimosa leaves 
can match these little flowers in their delicacy,
Its their blooms that are ‘in your face’ now, saying:
“Grab me while you can, Don’t let the moment pass! 
Now is look-at-me time, show time, no-holding-back time”. 

I hear the call.

– March 2013 Liguria