After a dry March

 
With a slip and slide  narrow footpaths
lost across  swampy meadows
rains abate awhile, my coat wet,
a change from March, then was
the ground hard and fissured;
hoarse pleas, dry throats
ignored by  passing clouds,
unhurried by the wind;
throw off our coats, casting clouts
long before  hawthorns bloom,
whispers from church-yard stones,
maternal wisdom long forgotten.
Scarves again, caps, deep pockets,
distant thunder growling in the west,
heavy shoes and soaking trouser bottoms;
willows drinking deep and blackthorn,
tadpoles in  puddles, bathing birds
wrinkled earth swelling with the reeds
another shower, more to come . . .
time to slip and slide to home