Its one of those days where spring feels like summer,

as long as one stays out of the shade.

In places where the sun shines uninterrupted

the heat of the sun falls, intense, on newly sprouted leaves.

Trees look too sparse for the weather.

Bare twigs adorned with tiny buds are too skeletal for a true summer’s day.

Grass still sits brown and withered,  recovering from the winter,

though with half an eye closed, it could be summer drought parched instead.

April brings lengthening days and lengthening warmth too,

a joint chorus that sings, ‘throw off winter’s shroud.  Summer is coming to claim you.’

Winter aconites could be summer buttercups, complementing the illusion,

but the nodding trumpets of narcissus proclaim the season like the most strident herald.

Its one of those days where spring feels, and could look, like summer.

But don’t look too closely.