April is the cruellest month, Breeding likes on the feed (nets with Virat). Mixing Mumbai with Derbyshire. A stirring of Billy Root between the rain. The Abu Dhabi T10 kept us warm. Summer surprised us, coming over the live stream with an interminable anecdote about sandwiches. We flicked between Powerplays And went on in sunlight to Sophia Gardens, now known as the Cardiff Wales Stadium. And drank tea and lukewarm Fosters. And batted seven balls in a dead chase in Gujarat. Thank you for reading my poem, which is available for download as a limited edition NFT, copyright applies, and this includes you, the estate of TS Eliot. Our lawyers are watching. And yes, it is both a very good poem and also perhaps the best way of expressing the confusion, broken lines and tin-eared rhythms of early season English cricket.…