Pollen Counts: Reflections On Our Garden During The Summer Of Covid Poem by Colin Phillimore

Pollen Counts

The Bees shift, move on
from Salvia's hot lips,
trip to the avenue of Lavender,
then traverse to Buddleia cones
from Dawn to Dusk.
And Summer slips through our hands.

Fewer now
they pass to Oxallis -
a red bed with tiny yellow pillows,
and lastly to Abellia's pink -
drinking in final draughts
and dreaming of other lands.

Too few times have we looked up,
looked out,
brushed the flowers with our palms,
felt on our feet
the freedom of the sands.
And Summer,
just
slips,
away.

August-September 2020