Voting for spring

There are few things in life as beautiful as a bright spring morning, the sun warming deep into those chilled winter bones, with the hedgerow ablaze with an array of delicate blossom.

Smelling more fragrant than Mary Archer, looking more sophisticated than Samantha Cameron, sitting on the edge of a Daily Mail sofa (see Femail, April 11), they radiate a regal serenity. The clock strikes three, is there money still for tea?

The bees charge up their honey batteries, as they seek out new hives, and spread the light yellow pollen of the Liberal message. Bee hives are banned here in Hove, but are they floating voters?

The blackbirds sing their liquid song, as they house hunt with their new mate spending their nest eggs.

Is the red cherry blossom about to burst from its hard winter’s Labours, with a late flourish?

The hedgerow has hints of green growth. Is it a hope for the future or does it flatter to deceive, as a thousand council cuts are conceived and executed?

These cowslips, standing tall, have voted for spring, high hedges and their own gracious rule.