summer is the dead time

all winter - when dripping rain
within the bounds of a pulled in coat
- I have dreamed of this

but now it comes
   and like birthdays
   it does not satisfy

the flowers lack the brightness of spring
and the long evenings
- well they just lack
and can't compare -
to the darkness of winter teatimes

but give it a month
and the august heat

give it the happy time of september

give it the frozen winter rain
- and the coat wrapped round -

for summer is the dead time