We are having our typical summer in the UK – a few days of sun followed by rain!
This is a poem I wrote a year or two ago.
She gazes at her illustration of traveller’s joy
for at least five minutes travelling back
sixty years to art college. There’s no one else in the garden
and she says the words aloud, traveller’s joy. Lips
and tongue curl around other summer arrivals;
willow warbler, orange-tailed bumble bee, swift
and swallow-tailed butterfly.
She’s sitting on a wicker seat, a first edition of her book
open on her lap. Leafs through pages
savouring other kindred names; shepherd’s purse,
roast beef plant, everlasting mountain and forget-me-not.
She stills her memories and walks along the gravel path
pinching bits of lavender to smell; her elderly cat follows-
too arthritic to chase butterflies, birds or bees.
A sunlit patch of lady’s bedstraw lies ahead;
her skirt brushes the yellow flowers, a faint smell
of autumn fills the air.
2 thoughts on “Summer”
this one seems straight forward, thanks.
Glad it makes sense!