B.. Alexander - British Summer Time

There is new life
In the old garden
There are pretty specks of colour
Blooming strongly from the ground
And the middle-air is weightless
Blowing freely through the lane
The summer fields fold out
Through wooden window-frames
Freshly-cut grass glides lazily
Down molten tarmac roads

There is new life
In the old garden
A cigarette, a teddy-bear
Starched laundry on the line
The meadow beyond the lower fence
And birds sleeping on the wires
Paint peals and turns to dust
On sheds, on gates, and benches
White-spirits in jars warming in the sun
On the worktop in the garage

There is new life
In the old garden
Luscious greens and winding blues
Yellows so intense they're blinding
Stretching out endlessly and golden
From this stream, to the horizon
Soon old friends will come and smile
Brimming with new conversations
And bonfires and water fights, and warmth
So pretty, so effortlessly divine

There is new life
In the old garden
A stalking cat, a knowing butterfly
The dance of smoke from the fire
A glass of wine, a scent of fruit
The pouring out of hearts so full
The apple tree, the water-hose
And running through the weeds
These scenes imprinting their memory
On every sense, five times remembered!

B.. Alexander

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/british-summer-time/