Languid, lazy, the heavy-laden
air abandons its moisture content
on the lush spring-greenness of magic
jungle – daily, hourly transforming
brown, woody skeletons into soft
adventure playgrounds where blackbirds and
sparrows, wrens and bluetits wing-weave through
showers of dripping foliage with
keen delight, watched by a curious
robin, alert on the garden chair
and me, in the ugly mac; grey-green
disguise betrayed only by laughter.