We’ve only been away a week and yet It seems we left in spring and have returned in summer

Alliums, dog rose and sweet rocket have burst 

Mint, marjoram and geranium running amock 

Foxgloves rise above the fray

The Ash tree is now clothed in soft green leaf wafting in the warm breeze

And Lying here in the hammock their softness seeps into my bones 

And softer still wisps of willow catkins float past in drifts in the sunshine 

The wood pigeon calls above the chatter of a dozen smaller birds 

We have had a lovely time but to return is truest bliss