For Elizabeth and her persistence against procrastination
In the distance, a haze-bound bridesmaid comes into view, skipping in zig zag fashion scattering petals here and there, illuminating the path with fragrant, brightly coloured promises of what is to come.
The sprinkled tints, hints and hues flow through Spring sown green and yellow, until the river of fecundity overflows into fields, flesh, and bones.
A rampant, lustrous, lustful, late teenager to the childlike innocence that came before, the burgeoning bounty to follow and the contemplative calm that secures the circle.
In juvenescence its elastic days seem endless, broken only by paternally enforced sentence of sleep.
But from dawn till dusk the fields were wide open, the rivers cooled unshielded skin and the woods held all manner of mysteries told to the crackle of campsite fires and aroma of wood smoke.
Later the cologne canvas will shift from calamine to beer on pub walls, back garden barbecues and blended hormones in long-grass pastures and secret seaside places. So many flushed and happy faces, so many memories conceived.
In our September days, when we occasionally seek shade, shimmering memoirs take time to offer dances with tacky tarmac, ice-cream scented foreign beaches, and freedom from teachers.
Then, just as it entered, the season of lasting till sunrise will sink gently into an autumn sunset, leaving a trail of bridal confetti to remind us of its passing.
With masterful subtlety, it will blend again its tones from Sancerre to Bordeaux, until, it slides from view, to hand over and wait to renew.