Hello Poetry Lovers
We can’t let summer get away without at least one tribute to it. And hands up who remembers that summer of ‘76! Hmm..quite a few raised hands there, I see. What an impact that July had on our lives! 
I have conveyed Summer generally in my triolet below. However, Trisha Broomfield has written such a beautiful and visual piece about that monumental summer. Superb, Trisha, thank you for letting me republish it. 
Trisha’s piece follows mine. Read on if you dare!
Summer Triolet
Memories of past summers sit on my skin
Some of them not worth recalling
Boring, lonely, only fit for the bin
Memories of past summers sit on my skin
Even good summers don’t get a look in
Perhaps they were just as appalling
Memories of past summers sit on my skin
Some of them not worth recalling.
HM 2022
Sunrise Over Islington
It was the only way to get a tan, olive oil mixed with vinegar.
Spreading ourselves on Hampstead Heath,
we fried, St Tropez
an aspiration.
It was the only way to keep cool at night.
We scaled the heights of giddy gates,
swam languidly, naked, in an outdoor pool
surrounded by statues.
It was the only way to party.
We opened our doors to the ‘bring a bottle’ crowd.
By dawn they’d slipped out silently,
taking our possessions.
In our empty flat we stood,
watching through windows
the sun rise
over Islington.
Trisha Broomfield 2019
Wasn’t that a beautiful poem, PL’s. The atmosphere and anguish and joy of the young in London during a brutal summer. I can’t get enough of it.
Thanks again, Trisha. I’m sorry your things got nicked, a painful lesson, I guess. Do read more of Trisha’s work in her beautiful collections When Peter Sellers Came to Tea and Husbands for Breakfast. 
And thank you for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back real soon…..
Heather Moulson 