In our absence, to unknown weather, there was an explosion of green - how tall the weeds are growing and all our plants put out their hopes for colour in the sun how humid the air, how green and moist the land, how lush everything looks not scoured by island wind not pounded by Atlantic rain. A day outside, burning sun, regrouping in our settings - I cannot hear the cuckoo now, but all the little birds are here and the bees are loud.next poem