I am remade in this after-rain sun,
brilliantine fine splashes of light
in the foliage,
breakfast cherries and coffee,
inland gulls cracking raucous,
salty savourings.
Summer has returned, unapologetically,
a gift again, self-unwrapping,
dissolving cumuli in blue solvent;
and cirrus would need seven veils
barely to clothe this sun,
her beneficent exhibitionism smiling
me from a dazzling periphery,
hot, vitamin kisses on my cheek.
I wave away the wasp like someone
on a station platform,
noting brambles which need clipping;
how fulsome are the apple globes,
blushing freely in my eyeing pleasure;
and how light
tightrope-runs along the gating gossamer
as breezes stretch it.
..
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Keep The Home Fires Burning
PoetryA poetry Collection. Now Lunk has taken to his bed, swearing not to write one more word about C, and muttering 'bloody garden', it behoves (Love that word, don't you?) me (and Anima) to fill out his shoes, with soil and flower seed. So we will be 'e...
