In silver liquid supplication
The truth of heat speaks up
And on bended knees and elbows,
Bowing in the shadows, we believe.
Chairs and seats from several
Rooms are grouped around the
Yard, and, off centre, last year’s
Rusted barbecue is ash scattered.
Cheap fresh cuts and Easter
Frozen meats are placed upon
The grill or skewered until they’re
Unrecognizable amid the vegetables.
A potato salad, hastily made
To cater for the awkward, clots
Away on the side as they didn’t
Even show today due to the sunlight.
Dewy beer bottles bang inside
A water but and in the bath tub
Overflowing cans of cider dance
While ice ran dry an hour after kick off.
And shaven headed gentlemen
Dance up and down the back lane
As if a Krishna train had stationed
Itself permanently at the street corner,
And we just sit in stillness
Trying to appreciate the silly
Season once again whilst silently,
Finally, thanking balanced weathermen.