England Travels to the Equator
…..
The oak tree, royal in another land
Where roses thrive and make the air go still
With orange, pink and purple scents, is spanned
By English summer breezes, those that spill
Across the squirrel’s nest and garden lawns
And take their fill of Englishness to bear
Around the globe, perhaps to tropic dawns
Another day where palm-tree parrots wear
Their screaming voices out above the flowers
Of oleander and banana. Hints
Of apple branches blend with sudden showers
Through sea breeze touched with coral ocean tints.
The warm is touched with tinctures of the cool.
The oak tree’s breath drifts past an atoll’s pool. |