Winter cedes the throne,
Draws back his ermine cloak.
Earth lies quiescent,
‘Neath dove grays and brown.
Blanketed in Death,
Lingering in dreams.
She Awakens!
Spring, in Royal Purple,
Dons the Crown.
Sacre du Printemps
Le Roi est mort, Vive la Reine.
The King is dead.
Long live the the Queen.
Misty Ridge Musings 
The beauty of that view is a perfect compliment to your prose. It so good to know you’ll be meeting your garden very soon.
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Long live the Queen. Love ‘Neath rather than beneath, dove grey rather than grey, and dove greys rather than dove grey. As always, you know it. You say it.
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