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Now is the time of roses...
Now is the time of roses,
Heady scent held in the air,
Upright in oh-so-neat gardens
Or rambled across disrepair.
Now, when the sun tilts southwards
And the bumble-bees buzz with delight,
The afternoon warmth tends to languid
And gently gives way to cool night.
Now the plum tree grows heavy
With fruit filling fast, and I plan,
The harvest a month or two henceforth;
The sticky-sweet work of plum jam.
Now, when the sun rises early,
Wattle-birds cackle their call,
Life sings of summer's approaching
And I hum in tune with it all.
