Hi Sally,
I enjoyed this, but like Gary wonder whether in parts it comes too close to 
the sentimental. Or rather, the parts I liked best were where you use very 
atypical heralds of spring, the fly and the fleas, for example. I also 
really like those lines:
"Light loiters behind closed doors
seeps through keyholes like lasers"
I wasn't so keen on the last verse. Too much of it seems to be restating 
what you have already said far better earlier on.
So I suppose what I'm saying is that I'd trim it back and emphasise the 
unusual images a bit more.
Hope this does not sound too negative.
Regards,
Matt



>From: Sally James <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: new sub Spring
>Date: Wed, 29 Mar 2006 20:30:07 +0100
>
>Spring
>
>There is a kind of peace here today
>as if angels have flapped their wings
>and perfumed the air with sandalwood.
>Light loiters behind closed doors
>seeps through keyholes like lasers
>straight as truth and just as strong.
>
>A fly buzzes on the windowsill
>tries to find a way out after its winter sleep.
>The bathroom tap drips in a frenzy of drops
>gathering soap suds and loose hairs
>eager to escape into another world
>and the sea beyond.
>
>An old dog yawns with a yellow smile
>the pale sun touching his whiskered jaw.
>Fleas jump into folds and crevices
>of old carpets and a prickly pink tongue
>licks outstretched paws that bask
>in the new found warmth.
>
>Buds call out and leaves unfurl their palms.
>Daffodils come out of hibernation, herald
>in a new awaking. There is a clinging to life
>like a child to a mother’s hand,
>as hearts yearn for the great re-birth
>after the ache of cold winter months.
>
>Sally James