In June

I change my tune..................
the cuckoo has commenced its garbled warblings of
cuck cuck cuckoo
cuck cuck cuckoo
cuck cuck, cuck cuck, cuck cooooooooooooooooooooo
we're not yet in June
though it feels like August
in the heat of the sun
gin and tonic a must
5pm
later
sun bares teeth upon golden skin causing us to seek shade
as bright light make us squint to see to the end of the field
now grasshoppers sing
if I could
I would
lie
in the hammock
all evening and listen to the songs of the wild.
Meanwhile a bedroom window is open for me to listen and hear.
She stops.
and reminds me that even no nightingales have been heard for several days.
June will change my tune....................