Monday, March 7, 2011

Sumer is icumen in

Sumer is Icumen in,
Loudly sing, cuckoo!
Grows the seed and blows the mead,
And springs the wood anew;
Sing, cuckoo!
Ewe bleats harshly after lamb,
Cows after calves make moo;
Bullock stamps and deer champs,
Now shrilly sing, cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo
Wild bird are you;
Be never still, cuckoo!

Well, not really. But it feels like summer is just around the corner.  Here we are, not yet to the equinox or even to the fullness of the spring bloom, but I feel like I am hurtling into summer, something like a spaceship feeling the heat of reentry.  These days of spring, of wind and rain and new life emerging are so fleeting.  The enjoyment of it all is stressed by the knowledge that hot weather is on its way.  I have the sense of needing to hurry, to batten down, to have plants in place and the ground mulched, and finish up whatever plans I dreamed during the past year.  Summer is looming as a deadline rather than as a bright new season.

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