Sunday, 29 July 2012

Time Permitting

Summer has come to this: the sky invaded
by parachutes of cloud; abrupt random downpours
no sooner sheltered from than giving way

to precarious outbursts of sun. All season
has seemed this waiting for the season
to begin: waiting for the weather to include

us in its plans, or settle into patterns
no sooner framed than autumn will abridge
them, hauling down the coloured tents of summer;

moving on. It will come soon to this: swallows
giving way to the veering pipistrelle;
the ash-tree going to pieces on the lawn.

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