An April Sunday brings the snow by Philip Larkin

[dragonyphoenix]

An April Sunday brings the snow
Making the blossom on the plum trees green,
Not white. An hour or two, and it will go.
Strange that I spend that hour moving between

Cupboard and cupboard, shifting the store
Of jam you made of fruit from these same trees:
Five loads – a hundred pounds or more –
More than enough for all next summer’s teas.

Which now you will not sit and eat.
Behind the glass, underneath the cellophane,
remains your final summer – sweet
And meaningless, and not to come again.

Philip Larkin

Comments

[maramcreates]

The last summer, to the unmentioned winter, to the fading spring frost is such a wonderful transition. The march of time, while a single fleeting moment sits in 'a hundred pounds or more' of jam jars, is especially moving.

Thank you for sharing.

[dragonyphoenix]

It was difficult to pick just one of his poems, he's so good.