The seeds of Albion.



Chelsea it was,
Grandmother and because,
for his ancient tweezle,
turn and turn about, that it is.

For control freaks,
their is something about a garden,
that your dreams could come true,
the wild dog rose opens for you.

The honey bee from the apple tree,
organic like the sea,
even when we are in prison,
we dream of spiders.

I look after, do not disturb the nest,
such is the long peace,
such is our lease,
healing test.

The robin pops his head above the tank turret
and blesses the worm,
the sun is warm and gentle,
all of us shall picnic in the hop fields.

Giro shield and kids learning of the May.

They are simple things the beggar days in the orchard grove,
the sound of blackbirds our treasure trove.

An artist cleans her brushes.

~