***
I can’t remember a more arctic spring,
I conclude work and sit alone in the tower,
With blinds up, with eyes down,
Trying to attract summer.
This is one of the times I miss you most,
As blank as Belgian clouds,
I wait for the rains to stop, for the sun to come out.
Poppies haven’t arrived yet in Filip’s garden,
However, his concierge tree is full of blue plums,
Hundreds of hours it takes One to ripe them,
Its branches now play with my hair,
And carry an air of grandma
Putting her satin dress for the May Labour day –
Creating beauty requires time,
The lilac bush shivers in its velvet gown,
I count the purple stars, in search for a five-petaled one –
Though, with you in my palm, it’s clear
Sun has been out, bees have been buzzing!
Inside anticipation is rising
For June 21 –
Like incense – the cold before warm –
For solstice,
For the response
To my prayer.
