Strange summers, sometimes, heavily imbued
With music of uncertain pitch, have come
As we have laboured in the luxury of sun’s
Enabling light, to see the cloud turn air to gold
To other, silver – such a one is now.
Wrapped in our works and endless love
Committing all in hope and faith
As we do in these twisting weeks
We only can hold hands and kiss
As always we have done and laugh
At changing lights and differing strains
And come through yet again.