Full moon in the far far north, the hill
a huge dusky animal, crouching.
On the lower slopes a woman – also crouched,
furtive in the half-dark.
A sense of secrecy – anticipation…
She’s planting –
lighting the blue touch paper that as the sun returns,
will catch and fire this dark world into tender bud and leaf.
Released, the crouching animal will leap
alive with vivid colours, scents, bird song,
long days, white nights, bonfires,
the all too brief exotic summer of the North.