174 – Summer. 5.30am.

Poem number 174
.
Summer. 5.30am.
.
June has arrived and with it the sun, at last
I walk to work through full daylight,
The dark commutes of winter now passed
Into memory. A different world.
.
The verge is a deep green beneath overstuffed beech.
Individual blades stirring in the morning breeze,
There is a chill and yet I’ve left my coat out of reach
At home. Trusting to the advent of summer.
.
The early taxis flash past, just as they did when it was colder
But they startle less now, their roar muted by the daylight
As young tigers, when grown slightly older
Stalk more. Shout less. Muted by wisdom.
.
The new regime is balm, weather worn limbs eased gently from bed.
I feel the warmth, embrace it, yet am always aware
That the winter passed is the winter ahead.
The dark. The cold.
.
For now I enjoy the sun and the arrival of June.
The verdant greens and early morning insects,
The cloudless sky that all too soon
Will be black. Summer is transient. I can live with that.

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