Honeysuckle

(A new poem under construction)



It first began to flower in February -
we had an unexpected warm spell -
and pretty much continued through until
midsummer. And it was lovely of an evening
to be hit for six by that perfume
as soon as I opened the front door
to listen for owls, or as I brushed by
arriving home from some meeting.

Then through July, the leaves  got crinkled and spotty,
while clusters of berries gradually turned
deep red, and summer began to slip from my grasp.
The month ended, and nights began seriously
to draw in. The swifts disappeared all of a sudden
from the evening air. August is the month
when Autumn really begins, I think,
even if the world’s still taking its summer break.

Then to my surprise, overnight it seemed,
a host of new shoots appeared, bearing
fresh green leaves and swelling flower buds
eager to burst once more into fragrance.
And I am glad of the timely reminder
that we are not yet done. There are still
new colours and scents untasted, and
fresh adventures and songs unshared.