a waft of warm air
the trill of birdsong
and I am lost in a drift
of thought and cloud
and blue, blue sky
*
I follow paths not there
in my youth yet they
look seasoned,
maybe time has got
away from me,
today, yesterday
*
I notice a dead bee
at my feet
then another and another
a line of dead bees
scattered full stops,
I sense summer is over