July

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“Sometimes… here, in this world, in this life, there are fragments of paradise.” – Ben Okri

 

After a rainy May and June during which I was away a lot, the garden has grown verdant and jungle-like. Now that the sun is out at last, I’m content to sit among the overgrown disorder of it all, listening to the bees. I wrote this poem out there yesterday.

 

Green and lush, untended and anarchic,

Bindweed and dandelions push for space

Where jasmine, bergamot and chamomile’s

Intoxicating scents release on touch

 

Long fingertips of fern unfurl to languid summer sun

Beneath a canopy of ash and elder

 

Campanula cascading over faded walls

Thousands of five-pointed, purple stars

Alive with humming bees from dawn til dusk

 

Feathered, soft, all shades and shapes of green,

The smell of warm, damp earth as I,┬áto blackbird’s song,

Water the tomatoes in the evening light

 

A bramble flower suspended on a single spider’s thread

A sliver of new moon in sunset sky

The cat asleep beside the lemon balm

 

This is where I go

To breathe

 

 

 

 

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