Summer clothes. Dawn, high blue and clear. Warm through double glazing. A day to get the boxes down from the top shelf. Hello linen, shirts with no sleeves. Sandal cages for naked toes. Dresses I didn’t wear last year, or the one before. Shorts. Espadrilles. Capris. Flip-flops. Even the names glisten in the sun. The sun that today sits optimistic over arriving geese and glints on frost and stacks of hailstones gathered on windowsills. Fickle spring and the impossibility of socklessness. Twist in the mirror, estimate the shift of a season. Folding corduroy, velvet, cashmere (doesn’t wash, didn’t wear. Again).