February And Beyond

The Way of Stuff

Thorn buds on the burst
within my hybrid hedge,
and privet is untidying herself
(stretching a little and mussing her hair).
Expected occurrences,
steady reassurance.

But the predicted (heat wave)
simply didn't materialize,
though a sun endeavours
to melt the glaze
on a shell of...
call it cloud or haze.

What on a summer's day
would have been a cool start ,
succeeded by a scorching afternoon,
is this pale primrose sun
blurry and scanty in her diaphanous raiment..

It is the unexpected, 
the unpredicted that can chill deepest,
sudden offlines, sudden silences,
disappearances, yes even though
eleven months ago,
throw me lonely on the trial of now.

Kafkaesque days draw their lines
of sharp condemnation deep
in trenches within me,
bombardment and attrition
their only strategies.

A sigh, a gulp of coffee, my riposte.

..