Weather

Poem 803 – The English Spring

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The English spring, there is no greater joy!
The rising of the sun from its long sleep,
As garden birds full-throated song deploy
And glorious colour from undercover peeks.
Bodies relax, no longer stiff from cold,
Emotions thaw, our smiles at last return,
And up above the new-born leaves unfold
As from their time-shares swallows now adjourn.
Immediately our backs are shorn of shirts,
The annual quest for tans begins apace.
We know the fickle sun will soon desert us
And new found skin tone quickly start to fade.
Today the skies are blue, tomorrow grey,
Look storm clouds are already on their way.

There’s nothing more predictable then the English spring! It’s been a lovely day today, but who believes that this will last….
(24.02.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Aniket Bhattacharya on Unsplash

Poem 800 – A Dash of Colour

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Abandoned, redundant woolen gloves lie prone
upon the hallway floor beyond the door.
A lone daffodil pokes its yellow face
above the muddy grass to meet the Sun.
This unexpected sight (the Sun or flower?) is
a hint of spring after the long, damp, drag
of February, whilst on the path earthen
stains are fading like guilty fingerprints.

Suddenly today, the seasons seem to be turning. No doubt this is but a brief interlude, but it suggests the end’s in sight.
(22.02.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Poem 755 – Storm Goretti

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Water sloshes from the sky like ocean waves
Crashing recklessly over the pavements,
Whilst rivers run, white rapids down the roads,
Tumbling torrents full of energy.

Crashing recklessly over the pavements,
Flushing the world within its hungry wake,
The storm’s a torrent full of energy,
A hungry deluge devouring the darkened sky.

Flushing the world within its hungry wake,
The urgent raindrops drum incessantly,
A hungry deluge devouring the darkened sky
Whilst sunshine hides its light in guilty shame.

The urgent raindrops drum incessantly
As rivers run, white rapids down the roads.
The sunshine hides its light in guilty shame
Whilst water sloshes from the sky in waves.

I enjoyed writing the pantoum a couple of days ago, and so thought I’d try another on this rainy day.
(08.01.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Kostiantyn Li on Unsplash

Poem 700 – Light Rain Predicted

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It says light rain, and so it is,
but can a rain that does not stop,
that pours relentlessly, a grey
insipid, haze of wet that soaks
through coats, and trouser pockets where
they drain, be ever truly light?
It is so fine it makes its way
through every pour and crevice that
present themselves, from seams to button
holes, and zips to ears and noses.
It says light rain, but I’m weighed down
my clothes and spirits drenched and heavy.

It looks like a long weekend of rain ahead… (For transparency’s sake, thankfully I’ve been in the inside looking out at the rain, imagining, so don’t feel sorry for me!)
(14.11.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 661 – The Nottingham Coast

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This gentle green descends towards the horizon
which laps around its edge in waves of cloud.
Surprisingly, the playful sun is out, its
autumnal heat washes over us,
awakening birds that shriek in joyful play.
We walk, my father and I, along the hedgerows
reaching like groynes into the fields, alert
to fungi, berries and other harvest gifts.
Strolling along this Nottingham coast we let
it roll over our toes with grateful thanks.

Dad and I went for a delightful walk in the Nottingham countryside today, regretting in the surprisingly summer-like weather.
(06.10.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Ries Bosch on Unsplash

Poem 581 – New River in the Rain

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The trees’ reflections are stirred,
obscured by whirling eddies
that form along the bank.
Concentric circles overlap,
and dancing dissipate.
Delineation blurs as
the air moistens, merging
with the flow below.
Darting swifts live up to
their names catching disturbed
insects on the wing.
Suspended spiders’ webs,
glistening silver-plated,
adorn the grassy fence,
whilst blackberries, freshly washed,
hang low from laden branches,
dressed in mourning tones.
A cormorant smiles and dives,
oblivious to the tears.

It’s down to rain all day, but regardless, we snatched a walk between deluges along the New River, built to feed water to London to the south. My new raincoat kept the rain out.
(19.07.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Jackie Best on Unsplash