The sun’s hot arms enfold the garden
in a blaze of light, that makes cats sleep;
and the trees lift sprouting branches high,
sated with the energy they keep.
Among the flowers one drinks in sun,
as water feeds the pond set lilies;
its tight curled petals glow with fire,
turning sunlight into colours.
The rosebush, holding court once yearly,
showers petals like a confetti
cavalcade of scented courtiers,
laying down their cloaks so sweetly.
Once so plain, a skeleton drying,
holding all it’s energy pruned;
the rosebush now exults in life,
the annual resurrection done.