welcoming summertime

Every time I feel close

to understanding the world

the glass kettle on my stove sounds

I rise, attending to it

with annoyance and hidden pleasures

for my unmade cup of tea.

This is what it’s like to live in May

After May,

summer arrives regardless

with its pears and its wine and

its inertia and its skin and

its softness and its light and

its hysteria and its fresh butter

And I shall rejoice to put my clogs on 

I shall laugh for running to the moor

I shall smile for bleeding 

I shall revel in the organic drunkness of life

But as my clogs begin to wear

my feet become wooden

the kettle starts to steam

at the end of the moor, 

i shall walk into the sea

and i can only hope 

it will choose not to drown me.