Afternoon in the sun

Sitting in the sun,

In my garden

Watching the cherries

Quietly growing

Listening to Ralph McTell

And wishing

That I’d written his songs

The soft blue sky

Is touched

Here and there,

By thin, wispy high clouds

A hopeful bee

Tentatively nuzzles

The apple blossom

The Pennines

Are changing their brown winter coat

For the softer greens

Of Spring and Summer,

Promising cricketing weather

I switch Ralph off –

Too melancholy for the sunshine,

And search

For something befitting the afternoon

I opt for silence,

And notice that the cherries

Are still quietly growing