April’s mornings bring a still chill to air
That makes slumber so sound and dreams so deep
Before tepid autumn’s sun’s light so fair
Shines bright enough to burst the bliss of sleep.
The skies of each day’s trek out of shyness
Begin with steely blue edged with those clouds
Primed wet to quench every garden’s dryness
Or else disperse as mists and shifting shrouds.
After high noon when breezes rise and stroke
There’s heat to warm the last of summer’s flowers
And golden fronds swish ‘round the silky oak
While hungry birds feed through long shadowed hours.
But then there comes the greatest show of all -
Cerise dusk swoops, hides daylight in its shawl.
A reminder to readers in the Northern Hemisphere:
Australia is upside down and our seasons are back to front.