Bank holiday afternoons

Bank holiday afternoons

Rarely deliver

On a promise,

There is a chill in the air

Even though the sky is high and dry.

In England

The blue would be tinged with a rime of frost

There would be rain

And hail hiding over the hill

Waiting for a break in defences to pour through

Like an invading army

Of Berserkers and killjoys.

The weather has a way of altering

The dynamic of an early May day,

It would be shirtsleeves

Swimming togs

A quick dip in the North Sea,

Before beach cricket or footy

And a break for showers.

Today in South Queensland

The same blue sky

Is pining for an end to the cool season.

Another rubbed her hands together

Trying to light a fire in her soul.

Yonder a tree waves a warning

It resembles a Raptor from Jurrasic Park

Perhaps I was the only one to notice

As the tradesmen have taken to the bar

With their families

To drink and sing along

To the old songs

From the time before bellies expanded

Hair receded

And the children demanded more

Than they expected.

Drinking beer and eating burgers

Is a pastime for the ages

Their faces beam in satisfaction

At poorly prepared food, sold at inflated prices.

Sunshine has a way of levelling expectations

As English seaside towns

Are bursting with revellers

Paying over the odds for fish

That was, once upon a time

As cheap as chips.

It is hard to accept

But even a boy from the land

Of the Prince Bishops

In the old kingdom of Northumbria

Is feeling the pinch of a chill

In his bones.

It might be wise to go indoors

Where the tug of the wind is absent.

On an afternoon when the temperature

Is marooned in the low twenties Celsius

The impact of global warming

Is an article in the Guardian

And too easily forgotten

In the need to enjoy the moment.