Autumn (April)

Stars mazy at midnight struck a match when triceratops gallumphed about. Mind unfolds, like a leathern encyclopaedia, now heat relents. An amazing moon. Facts drop off the twig or ache for life-giving burial. Mornings criss-cross paths where we wake to work, the lather of concrete already cracked and repaired. April trees go auburn by degrees. Those frilly greens are on the way out. Hills of leaves smoking in gardens are a thing of the past. It’s lovely being wide awake to the city’s charge, lovely feeling tired of all the buzz. We plant out button-hard broad beans in the sun.