Spring Break

Our friends said that we were mad taking the cottage at that time of the year.
‘It’ll be rain, rain, and more rain. You’ll be lucky to get a single fine day.’
But we went ahead and booked it anyway.

We stopped at the village for a few supplies, then drove until we were almost at the cliff’s edge.
It was getting dark by the time we had unpacked the car.
Suzanne made coffee while I lit the fire.

As predicted, it rained that night.
But, in the morning, the sun came out and we walked to the edge of the cliff and imagined
that we could see all the way to France.

When we returned to the cottage, Suzanne got out the folding canvas chairs
and placed them in a patch of bright sunlight near the rhododendrons.
‘So much for rain, rain, and more rain.’

I got out my camera and took some photographs of Suzanne reading.
I smiled to myself, imagining us sending the photographs to our friends. ‘What rain?’
A crow arrived and hopped about on the edge of the lawn. ‘Whaaad?’ the crow asked.

Suzanne put down her book, stood up, and removed her jeans.
‘I bet it’s not warm enough to do this back in London,’ she said.
The crow frowned. At least I think the crow frowned.

And then Suzanne crossed her arms and pulled her sweater off over her head.
She was wearing a pale blue chemise trimmed with lace.
‘What do you think?’ she said.

‘I think that I should get a shot of you like that,’ I told her.
Suzanne smiled and flopped out one of her boobs. ‘A 60th at f8?’
‘Something like that,’ I said.

‘Since we’ve gone this far, we may as well go all the way,’ she said.
And she pushed down her pale blue knickers and lifted the hem of her chemise
to reveal her hair-covered mound and her ever-ready slot.

‘Whaaad?’ the crow asked again.
Later, we walked to the picture postcard pub and ate scampi and drank cider.
So much for rain, rain, and more rain.