It is the first of June, I am aware of the reds and blues
Of poppies, roses and campanula.
Hues of a myriad of colours, interspersed with the cry of
blackbird, crow and sparrow;
Their cries interrupting the peace of this narrow
patch of earth in this small summer garden.
Yet they are in accord,
Darting and singing their cries to the world
Lifting the insects from petals unfurled,
hurriedly feeding their young,
their lives barely begun.
Even the cuckoo from afar
joins in the throng of sound,
It is all around.
There alone, I lie back into the softness of a lounging chair,
pleased just to be there!
Distantly, shyly , the moon lightly hides behind the clouds.
It is too early for her to be around
Yet she waits patiently for the sun to wane
To repeat the circle of all her days
again and again.
Into this beautiful scene
I intervened, tired and worn
from daily work and toil, almost at the boil
with all around.
Aggravated, no energy and ready for tears
Yet it all disappears.
Washed away, as I see again the bigger scene
And where my place is As a part and in between
all of nature and this glorious planet Earth
I am less than an infintisimal grain of sand
Yet I know my worth, within this circle of infinity
All parts dependent on each other
For there to be synchronicity.