ACROSS FARM FIELDS

A cantankerous five-billion-year-old sun,
like a man or woman of a certain age, is
poking fun at me today; playing hide and
seek behind baleful, over-bearing, grey
-black clouds which scatter showers on
slippery,
               sludgy,
                          fudgy-brown
                                               terrain
                                                          as I,
one moment hot, next cold again, wide-eyed,
child-like, content, drudge-trudge across farm
fields betwixt Shiremoor and Whitley Bay. 
                                          
Yet, though clouds try they can’t, for long,
keep concealed a proton-fusion fireball
firing heat and light, ninety-three million
miles in eight minutes flat, through the solar
system’s vast expanse to greet a Lenten
supermoon on this year’s Vernal Equinox.