springcoming

My brother has a room with a view
Of yolk-yellow suns dipped in salty seas
And Cheshire Cat moons balancing on the spray

He sends me photos from Sydney
Postcards from a distant planet
Where the winters are warm
And bright birds call in strange accents

I send a photo back of my dog
In a river that’s sometimes a byway
Mud up to his dog elbows
Savouring the icy slick of it, the splash and suck
“Winter in Cornwall!” I type

It’s March now, and things are changing here
Daffs and snowdrops, naturally
And a shift in collective mood that stems
From the parched being watered
From aching needs being met

The clouds have parted
The sun soaks pallid limbs and cracked lips heal
Coats unzip
Hearts soar

Does my brother get that feeling, of hunger sated?
With constant balm and flat calm
And lows that reach our record highs?

Each lap around, a childlike hope leaks in
That the sun will linger a little longer
This year

Late August rain hammers at the windows
But hope dies hard
“Stay with us, summer,” I whisper
As September closes in