“To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.” George Santayana

i) autumn: "i am so glad i live in a world where there are octobers" (Anne of Green Gables)

if along the hamble river then

the autumn rains still dampen

the ancient oak

the sweet chestnut and reed beds

along the muddy creek banks

of the briney estuary water -

who will remember?
i feel the source but 

i have long since torn myself away

from the tidal mud and mist -

my roots have broken free from where 

i tightly clung and fiercely fought 

during those early years -

the grey autumn sky covers all and 

still it rains on the hamble river

as the leaves of the oak 

and sweet chestnut

turn yellow then brown to fall 

rotting underfoot as 

the north wind that stirs the reed-beds

brings now an even colder chill



ii) winter: "in the depth of winter, i finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer" (Albert Camus)

if from barren winter backstreets then
along the freezing brighton promenade 

across the snow dusted beach and shore-line

to the edge of the icy english channel

who could even notice?

hungry, empty, cold, alone and

everywhere unbearable gulls screaming

- seawater hisses harshly over shingle
moodily walking the shore, clouds
as dead as the slate sky overhead
the pebbles shifting underfoot
whilst my freezing grey, aching shoulders 

rise and fall in icy silence

where is the promised sea of tranquility?
a beach of spring tide?

where finally might security be found?

yet miraculously out there, deep 

in the dreadful, deadly tides

something lighter begins to stir

- a hint of blue that slowly stains 

the dark waters of the english channel

iii) spring: "in spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt" (Margaret Atwood)

if so richly drooping then

the bristol elderflower blossoms 

in a back garden of springtime filters -

who will find time to stop and be?

whilst the elegant bugs

on newly unfurling rhubarb leaves
manoeuvre, luxuriously alive -
if we are silent while we feel
how quiet is the night 

here in st werburghs?
if we but hold our breath 

for just one second while 

the elderflower-scented breeze

gently drifts along the river avon ...

but you and I

have precious little time 

to be still, silent and grateful

to smell the elderflowers or

feel the spring rain on our faces

or truly appreciate the springtime: 
responsibility and labour 

command, demand and govern us

whilst elderflower petals fall and 

dance along the river avon

iv) summer: "august rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. the odd uneven time" (Sylvia Plath)

if then finally, after all

the midsummer day breaks 

out of infinity, gloriously across 

the magnificent fire blue sunrise

over famara beach

who will be standing by your side?

in the true exploding wonder

summer perfectly reflected 

in the wet, golden sand of famara 

and in the crystal clear water

of the vast atlantic ocean

finally, after all ... and yet

something is approaching

in the nearing distance -

hurtling forwards

I try to deny the dream
but how pitifully I fail
let the atlantic ocean waters 

rise up to greet it
let waves move in and out of space

and the warm canary current claim me
soon it will cease and be over

soon we shall face the change -
summer fleets too quickly

too soon i'll say goodbye to famara
to these final days of summer

so taking heed whilst

zipping up my fleece

- september is on her way