Gully streaks of snow remain
Now the hills are dark where rain
Has washed away winter's white.
Pond refilled and overflowing.
Taste of autumn in my snack:
A bread roll with cheese
And hedgerow jam,
Made by a friend from wild berries.
And summer has begun,
I know, because all day
I have had warm feet.
Burnham: Is the Media Tempting Fate by Jumping the Gun?


Appreciated Bags. Not just for your poem as always but because I too have been pondering on the fact that I've shed 4 layers of clothes in 48 hours and will still be wearing bedsocks tonight.
to start this sunny morning, B.
