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.