Measure these summer days
in handfuls of bright butterflies,
satisfaction of neat striped lawns,
heady smell of fresh cut grass.
Weigh a young bird trapped in the bath.
Count the number of flowers on the hebe
Calculate the pleasure of days
by the moment when the sun dipped
over the yard arm, anticipated
by a cool glass of wine, sipped
after a walk by the wooded water.
Remember the child on the swing, laughing
Savour the magic of days wrapped
in sharp sweetness of fallen mulberries,
the unfurling of late rose buds,
deep purple velvet of clematis,
breakfast with a friend in the garden.
Feel the sun’s rays warm on your bare skin.
And count
the flight of August
by the absence of swifts.