The summer has come.



Tinklin' cool is all around,
people as extras in a holiday film,
soft brown musing talk,
a long rest by the stream in the forest.

She walks quietly as a princess on the gold coast,
love is ginger toast.

Kawa rings from Glasgow,
the Kelvin does flow,
stateless with no home,
the birds have flown,
writing every week to his mother,
that freedom would will,
he should not have to pay this bill.

Israel shuts down the Lebanese supermarkets,
for throwing bombs into the square,
wailing and the wedding wreath,
billing and cooing, Mary and Keith.

Gentle polite mountain bikes
and all our bells a ringin';
I pour a bucket of water over the hyacinth,
it's flowers give thanks.

~