It is still a summer breeze
Even after our Channel Islands vacation
There are still leaves on the trees
Even after I surveyed the state
Of that small station
The pampas grass commands the views
Its circumference doubled
Thanks to sun and rain
I am listening to Nils Frahm
His album titled Screws
In my gentle meditation
I am thankful for the pain
The little yellow wheelbarrow
Does not know where to sit
The jet fighters manoeuvres
They rock the ground and the sky
Captain Corelli’s Mandolin
Those houses that took a hit
The world's ammunition factories
O why, o why, o why
It is still a summer breeze
Beneath the mid-August daydream
There are apples, there are peaches to seize
There are thoughts, of love
Love on which to scheme
There are masses of blackberries
Although some still a youthful red
The garden eases, teases out my worries
Lets me write those missing words
Those words which I never ever said
The grass seeds, which I planted backalong
Have covered the bare and damaged ground
The thymes, the reed grass
All are coming on strong
The pianist, and the bass player, gift their song
