Speckles of green against the dreary greyness herald the arrival of spring,
A weight taken from your shoulders as you walk down the street in a light jacket,
Planning to give your trusty woollen winter shield a cleansing before it hibernates.
Then, at the corner before the metro entrance, you see a single blossom on a tree,
It sneers at you with its unabashedly exotic fleshy petals and heady scent,
Destroying your sentimental daydreaming of gentle spring days in temperate climes.
Instead, it’s a brutal harbinger of the sweaty days and nights that are to come,
Mosquito bites, incessant cricket chirps drilling into your brain,
Sheltering from the heat instead of the cold,
In a country where the spring and autumn last as long
As the single half of a luscious sweet strawberry adorning your slice of bland sponge cake.