JANUARY

Snow lies on rooftops.
Powder crunches on the path.
The garage is shut.

FEBRUARY

A thaw has set in.
Gutters become rivulets.
I get the van out.

MARCH

In the chill of an
east wind, daffodils can bloom.
Engine still needs choke.

APRIL

Buds plump on willows.
Showers batter the windscreen.
The roof starts to leak.

MAY

In weak warmth, cherry
blossom whitens the damp grass
and speckles the way.

JUNE

Late light evenings
make possible long road trips
and lazy picnics.

JULY

Regatta excites
when camping by the river.
We see rowers race.

AUGUST

You sit on the shore,
swim in cooling North-Sea waves;
sleep in cosy van.

SEPTEMBER

Sky’s deep blue, pink-streaked
as I drive into the night
and late birds fly by.

OCTOBER

Days growing shorter;
trees rust-coloured; roads glisten.
Headlights are switched on.

NOVEMBER

Wet leaves are falling.
Wipers go to-and-fro, to-
and-fro in the rain.

DECEMBER

I start the engine;
frost paints patterns on the glass.
I can’t see a thing.