The Koshi bells tinkle
The lawns are continuously mown
This is the August Bank Holiday
At some place called home
The long-handled brush
Fishes out the algae
From the overgrown pond
As Red Admiral butterflies drift by
Next doors apple tree is burgeoning
With this years bumper crop
As is Peter’s pear tree
As well as his ‘reach for the sky’ white roses
The giant bee lands momentarily
But immediately leaves the bush
To fly off across the garden
The poet’s art
Is conjuring up images
Of those places he can’t go to anymore
