This is a predictably British post: it's about weather! We haven't experienced the horrendous extremes that other parts of the world have this year. It has just been an unpredictable summer with a long period of unpleasant weather stretching from the latter part of spring to midsummer and beyond. The sort of summer that has a nasty habit of dragging peoples' spirits lower and lower as one grouchy day fades into another. Thus, when the occasional warm and balmy day comes along, it evokes enthusiastic response and a noticeable lifting of spirits. It was on just one such day last week when I sat in our garden and felt that even the insects were rejoicing in the warmth. That provoked the following poem - with a serious question in its 'tail'.
Dire Summer
Dragonflies! Butterflies! Hoverflies!
The garden’s found summer at last:
and just for a moment – and possibly more
no acre of sky is o’ercast.
Now people are ready to smile and be
friendly,
delighted by absence of rain,
and making a toast of the warmth
and the most of it, lest floods beleaguer
again.
O how has this summer affected the insects
that hover and flutter and zoom?
Let’s hope things won’t worsen
and change put a curse on
the climate - which could spell out doom.
