Revived, a house fly cartwheels past my nose,
hyper at 20 degrees C. It’s June and
in the garden: butterflies (!) skinks on stones
marigolds resurgent, magpies carolling,
sweetcorn that should have been pulled in May
re-shoots. Even the jasmine (tired old trope) blooms.
The brassicas grow rank and bitter in their beds
as we, sweating under the winter duvet,
argue (over) heated lines or fast-forward
through eps. of Alone, to linger on the snow shots.
O winterless world, what’s to become of us
polar bears and poets, schooled by the seasons:
‘how frost doth spangle the lips of a rose’
Adapt! Find a new metaphor. I grow old.
Image: Polar Bear at Seaworld Australia c/- Misaochan2, CC BY-SA 4.0 on Wikimedia Commons. Here in Australia it’s been a warm start to winter. Seaworld is an entertainment park in Queensland featuring a range of displaced animals.
And for music today here’s Belgian Afro ensemble Zap Mama with Brrlak! (or youtubers) .
Peter Frankis writes 
Poets (who else?) will name new seasons of dystopia! We’re seeing it here too, the monsoon is already a week behind schedule and the heat, in its absence, is going nuts.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’d send you a cool breeze, if I had one…
LikeLike
“polar bears and poets, schooled by the seasons:” great line, Peter. Sorry to hear someone swiped your winter.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’ll let me know if you see it…?
LikeLiked by 1 person
And here we’re bouncing out spring straight into summer. Sunny lovely 23C. Just right for me. Brilliant to see you words before my eyes again, Peter.
LikeLiked by 1 person
There will be a new different world.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think my vegies are adapting much better than we are…
LikeLike