Skylarking

Leaping seasons, I’m scrabbling for cool
cottons in this cavernous drawer. Shedding
cashmere, boots and woolly hats. Lighter.

Last month, eyes were dazzled by glacier
glints – the eastern beast smothered lawns,
crushed new-bloom daffodils. Freezing us

in hush. It’s a kind of ecstasy – climbing the
skylark’s spurting notes through deepest blue.
Flickering bliss. If April is the cruellest month –

I’m in. Cut grass. Hot skin. Rub sunscreen into
winter limbs. Searching for swallows to prove it,
we’re high on sudden summer. Skylarking now.