Glancing rightward from the hefty bench through thickets of dog rose
Towards the yellowed, mellowed castle
Feathered speedsters hurtle past, not silent but on fast, burring wings
While beady-eyed multitudes, hidden in bushy, flowery places give voice
In tongues we know not of, living life in this glorious walled garden
Singing cantatas and requiems, chit-chattering and perhaps,
Knowing they are instruments of Nature, embroidering everything.

And we, attuned to our walled dominion with its fruits and hidden places
Marvel at lumbering, hurrying Dumpies rushing a path towards us unaware
Until, confronted by the camera lens, ruffle and squawk their escape
Displaying a riot of dusty, spotted feathers, indignant and all fluffed up
Demanding, like Garbo, to be left alone, contemplating the laying of eggs
Alongside violets, under cooling ferns or in places only found by hens
Following their fancy, chuckling their secret joy at such clever hiding.

The day drones and drifts, pleased by the flickering of butterflies and moths
Deftly parallel with stripy, urgent flying machines that hover and dart buzzingly
Finding scents and nectar they crave before disappearing to drink before
Sluggishly applying vertical take-off, seeking other wells to worship in.
Still on that bench, a human acknowledges the slowing pulse that watching brings
And gathers in the swarm of movement, sounds and busy lives beating so
Leading us to live and let live, through journeys seen here in others’ lives.

Alongside, calling through a billowing swell of roses

Sang a blackbird

And I caught his thought and saw his song proposes

This garden holds more tunes than I have ever heard.

And then I caught his eye, gleaming with such intent

To make us understand

His piercing note foretold a coming nightmare urgent

We must care for lives other than our own, as planned.

At last, a drenching sun held the high walled garden
In dappling embrace
Where droney bees toured lavenders
Awash with nectared perfume.

And countless flowers threw themselves up, up towards
The blinding, fiery light
Exuding scents gushing yet dallying
In breathless air as we, enchanted, trod narrow, blissful paths.

Such clingy warmth made the castle garden
Sing with joy
As shiny, black and purple reflectant beetles
Journeyed at pace across aged flags.

A resident troupe of beetle-nabbing Dumpies resplendent
In oily, golden plumage
Confident in their preening beauty, parading
While enraptured lovers absorbed this paradise.

What joy, as shimmering, tumbling nature impacts the senses
In a drowsy garden that
Allows us colours and shapes and scents masking bold endeavour
And, sharing with its engrossed inhabitants, a love of life itself.

After a dreadful Winter, with no Spring, along came this glorious day.
The garden is heavenly and the warmth golden.