The sun is rising through the Cheshire trees
And dazzling me with winter - no, spring - light;
For seasons are not what they used to be:
There’s little freezing, no snow on the heights.
This thin veneer of frost maybe might bite
A naked foot on early morning stroll.
I saw a young woman walking, last night
Wearing a shirt but no coat, still not cold.
I selfishly hope that this mildness holds
At least till tomorrow (weatherman, please!);
Louis and me, under soccer floodlights
Tonight, don’t wish to freeze behind the goal.
We’re off to see Scunthorpe / Bristol City:
The Irons struggling, the Robins in flight.
Tue 12 Feb 2008
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