To when you and me felt to be
To 21 March 2021
***
When the northern hemisphere
Begins to tilt towards the sun,
When day and night are the same lengths
All over the world,
A fishing village of Sint Idesbald
Looked much alike as it was a spring ago:
A seagull circling over the wooden needle
Of the tide measuring pole,
Over the roaring blanket
Of the stormiest sea on Earth,
Lined by resilient dunes and fleeting sand castles,
To the west, where the sea alone lies,
Cargo ships stood at anchor,
To the north, the bastions of the concrete holiday homes
And grid-like streets of vacation districts,
To the east, the flat lands of war graves and beetroots,
To the south, maritime tubes and pipes – the miracle of Dunkirk,
Past passed or past is perfect?
When the northern hemisphere
Begins to tilt towards the sun,
The still spring morning of the year
Two thousand twenty-one
Was shattered by the arrival of absolute,
Never-ending and constant LAHV,
LAHV like the rain of Flanders,
LAHV like spaghetti of Trabia,
Our dog runs as carefree as this rain,
We listen to it every day,
Never-ending kisses onto the sea,
Light–heavy, short–long, weak – strong,
The rain of Flanders is a iamb,
Knocking the rhyme: Dah-DAH!
