Walking down the road

I saw drifts of crocuses

On my neighbour's lawn

And hellebores

In the garden of what I think of

As the witch's house.

(It is dark and shrubby

And I have never liked

Those bergenias.)

I realised that I have spent

Too much time indoors

Lately. Because when I ventured

Into my own garden

I picked twigs of forsythia

And pink buds of sharp-scented currant.

That I hadn't even noticed

Until yesterday.