As Autumn Ends

Warming

The seasons' course seems strange to me,
more strange than I remember;
wild flowers bloom unseasonably:
primroses in November.

The young pretend to blame us all.
Well, youth's a great dissembler:
May was forever, I recall,
and there was no November.

These days I'll take what Nature sends
to hoard for dour December:
a glow of warmth as autumn ends;
primroses in November.

~ David Gwilym Anthony, reprinted in Autumn: An anthology for the changing seasons, edited by Melissa Harrison (London, 2016), p. 187. The poet's biography, and the text of several of his other poems, can be found here