What summertime means to me

A summer poem, by Peter Appleby

Although spring’s by far my favourite, summer’s gifts are truly great,
Warm balmy evenings drinking wine until, suddenly it’s late,
Sauvignon blanc or a fruity malbec they all suffer the same fate,
As we banter with pals, we josh and laugh, in good natured booze filled debate.

Manc messiah’s back home, Lukaku’s going to win it for the blues,
How will City spend their millions filling Sergio’s genius shoes?
Hear the whingeing from us scousers when there is no transfer news,
Then we go to Anfield cathedral, worship the team we love from our pews.

Summertime with friends is special, such a privilege and a treat,
Yet there’s so much more to savour in this land so fabulous and complete,
Sipping hot coffee at dawn, rabbits play, the sun fires up its heat,
Then walking gorgeous Mila before hot tarmac burns her feet.

Woodland beckons, so grand and splendid in its inimitable way, 
‘Weeds’ nettles, ferns and bracken, in the breeze they gently sway,
The light and colour dazzles, we watch squirrels climb, chase and play, 
Like in springtime, walks with Mila are just the best part of the day!

Contrast uplifting spring, when birdsong stole the noisy show,
With summer much more quiet, their need to impress a mate’s now low. 
Tend young until they fledge, providing all they need to grow,
Above the frogs, the bees and butterflies so industrious down below.

Countless froglets cross our forest path, on their intrepid trip,
To boggy woodland areas, amphibious babies want a dip,
Mila, frustrated waiting, swerves and tries to give me the slip,
Then later at home she cutely snores and dreams through her afternoon kip.

Next there comes the sunset, resplendent colours and shapes and light,
Of all of nature’s wonders, such a magnificent and awesome sight,
Then bed with windows open, cool fresh air’s a pure delight,
Dream of holiday destinations that will amaze, inspire, excite.

Short or long-haul trip, staycation, I’ll give anything a bash,
I really love to sail, although in truth I often crash,
Nothing’s safe when I’m the skipper, my helming really is quite rash,
It’s that pesky mooring up you see, I always seem to make a hash.

Rise from the cabin early dawn, sea’s calm, a glassy mill pond,
I gaze at beautiful seascapes and views, I’m neverendingly fond,
Wide birth and caution nautical hearties – my skipper’s hat’s been donned!
We tack and we heel, cut through the swell, to wind and waves I respond.

But summer’s also a reminder of some dark and troublesome worries of mine,
Butterflies, hedgehogs, birds and bees – are they in irreversible, terminal decline?
Oceans rise, rivers flood, forests burn, wildlife dies, are we past nature’s deadline?
I despair as greed and apathy destroy this world that was once so fine.

I can’t end on that note, humanity must surely stand and fight,
I call on politicians, business leaders, finally do what is patently right,
We’re ingenious and clever, let’s use all of our incredibly talented might,
Let’s use Cop26 to rescue our beautiful planet’s perilous plight.

Thanks for humouring me with my latest attempt at poetry. Thankfully for all, my day job is still the HR consultancy and if you have any issues you’d like to discuss please don’t hesitate to contact us