Snowdrops

The days are short, the nights are long,
Cold air bereft of sweet birdsong,
Chill winds drone drearily o’er the Tay,
Fife hills are sombre, stark and grey.

But look! In garden borders bare,
Greenshoots of snowdrops bravely dare
To rise, and soon will brightly bloom
And chase away dull winter’s gloom.