Walking in the summer garden

 
 
Tangles in the garden,
roses soar to the trees
babel colours held in spiders' webs
queues of caterpillars in the ragwort,
next year’s moths and butterflies
crab trees heavy in their fruit
holy berries green, robin-red-breast
hiding in the glossy leaves.
July noon heavy in the sun,
twice my height the rose trees
drop their petals; hips begin to swell,
fruit for autumn mists and fruitfulness
here we wait, sense the fading greens
pluck an infant bloom in its sepal cradle
try to stay the flight of time.