It isn’t often that I see
Whirling giants following me
With folklore band and cops in tow
And confetti falling just like snow.
The local carnival is out
The neighbours gather round about
Garish home-made costumes worn
Fright wigs take the streets by storm.
Small kids resemble birds of prey
Skilled make-up takes my breath away
With pointy hats and flowing capes
The procession slowly snakes
Its way around our village lanes
We’re lucky - God holds off the rains!
Jacques Brel songs sound loud and clear
The locals stand outside and cheer!
Meanwhile, hot dogs and beer await;
In a while they’ll celebrate
Until the setting of the sun
The birth of spring now winter’s done!
(c) Poet in the woods 2014