ah! April.
Come she will.
what can be said of the month before may?
as british as disdain, lets look at the weather!
cloudy, mostly, with the odd sun and the odder midday shorts.
i have taken my breakfast in the garden, because the light lied to me,
lied, and told of warmth i am too impatient to dress for.
i do not take the garden chair from the garage,
if i did, the sky would see my hubris,
and spit on me for it.
Not with malice,
for April rains are friendly.
and i have poor history with the friendly.
so, i sit on the cold, breathing grass,
in my pyjamas.
the jumper i told you i stole keeps me from the wind, but only just.
i eat the morning peach, out of season
and head back indoors.
i have learnt my lesson now.
summer will see me patient, dressed in the hospital gown
on a good diet and with that terminal hope
i shall moon on, when winter comes again.