In Helmsley Walled Garden.

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In the cool damp of a mid ~September afternoon
The garden is using all its senses.

The scent of a thousand nameless flowers
creeps through the mist as the rain strokes the leaves.

A few hardy bees drain summer’s nectar
down to the last, elusive drop.

A garish shout of dahlias scorns the dwindling light,
flaunting themselves like blowsy matrons.

A fading sunflower turns its head,
searching for what remains of the sun.

A flock of Goldfinches chatter a path across the borders,
dipping and plundering.

Slowly the ragged tints of autumn are catching fire
among the soft pastels of a sumer that is loath to leave.

Only the seed heads keep their thoughts close, swaying smugly.
Tomorrow is their secret.

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This entry was posted in Poetry..

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