Tangles in the shrubbery,
roses soaring to the trees
babel colours held in spiders' webs,
queues of caterpillars in ragwort yellow
next year’s moths and butterflies,
crab trees heavy in their fruit
holy berries green, robin
hiding in the glossy leaves.
A July noon heavy in the sun,
roses twice my height, sway in the breeze
dropping petals and hips begin to swell,
fruit for autumn mists and fruitfulness.
Here we wait, sense the fading greens
pluck an infant bloom in its sepal cradle
try to stay the flight of time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem