It’s early morning.
The full moon beginning to wane.
Peak summer energy dropping away.
I love this garden, this little patch of paradise, with splashes of leftover flowers, pink, yellow, orange and white dapple the green foliage.
I hear the wind and see it pushing through the high trees
but here on this sheltered terrace it barely brushes my skin.
A single head of agapanthus absorbs me into the blue of its trumpet flowers where, like the bees with their whole bodies subsumed in their search for nectar,
I am absorbed into the absoluteness of the universe.