The horizon is a knife-edge, a two-tone burst of blue so clear that I could reach out and touch it. White sail triangles cut effortlessly across the water as wisps of cotton clouds scud across the sky, mocking in light-hearted competition. Green freshness finds its perfect counterpoint in cobalt.

dead blossom
promising new fruit
in season

A chaffinch sitting as high as he can possibly go sings as if today is his last, as he has been doing since dawn. Distant voices shrieking with childish excitement are whisked up on the breeze to join the barbecue smoke. This fragment of time stretches out forever.

stop the clocks,
British Summer Time
ends too soon

Flowers have sprung up overnight, it seems, while my eyes were blinded by a life busy with fripperies. A brilliant backdrop of pinks, blues and mauves draws me into its colour so that I want to breathe the innumerable tones and hues deep into my lungs. I join the downy bees to drink it in.

all nature
working overtime,
day of rest