So Dawn Goes Down to Day

Oi! Already spring declines and leaf subsides into leaf while the peepers in the wetlands consider closing shop on all that razz for yet another season. Boats are gathering in the Merrimack and just this weekend humidity paid a visit for a couple of days scouting out locations for its inevitable summer run. And tonight Robert Frost called. What a wanker. “Nothing gold can stay,” he said. “Bugger off,” I answered in my best impersonation, and hung up loudly. I can’t listen to him right this minute go on and on about her early leaf's a flower but only so an hour. Yadda yadda yadda. Rubbish I’d say. Look at all the red maples blooming on the Point and talk to me next week when Main Street’s paved in the bloody things. Look I got to go and watch some BBC America; ‘The Office’ is on. The previews said that Eden sank to grief while Gareth pondered seconds and David discovered that vibration is her hardest hue to hold. I wonder: do they even have spring in Slough and if nature's first green was gold in Swindon, what's first gold? 300 quid? But yeah, I agree with that philosopher, our greatest glory is not in never falling but in rising every time we spring.