Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Roland's in August (2012)

Another of the anonymous poems I was kindly sent for the blog... (Apologies to the author - I meant to publish this in August!)

Roland's in August (2012)
A slice of spring brightened today with clear blue skies and vivid sunlight.
As we entered through the gate children's voices danced on the warm
breeze from within the park.
Excited screeches and laughter, dogs barking and Tui song - all mingled.
As we head towards the pond I enjoy the last of the bright yellow daffodils.
Sophie runs ahead tossing up brown leaves as the fantails flutter behind
searching for insects in her wake.

Startled ducks quack and take off surprising Sophie, the sound of the water tickling the rocks
soothes and I notice the burgundy leaves of the water lilies.
As we climb the hill I admire the frilly green lichen hanging from the bare branches
reminding me of a spooky boys story-book tale.
We stall at the top of the hill, both breathless with the warmth; views magnificent.
Banjo appears and instantly Sophie's persona brightens; her handsome charmer
makes up he is not interested but waits for her to catch up
and they both pee on the same spot.
As we wander towards a stand of naked trees I look up and
see a tangle of brown and white-bleached branches and twigs that remind
me of a young-girls hair as it swirls in the water upon swimming.
White fairies that have escaped the clutch of the thistle dance in the shadows of the tree trunks
as a slight breeze purreits their delicate tutu's.
I round the corner to find two boys climbing a tree while their mother watches anxiously
from below; hands on hips, delivering instructions.
Banjo heads off like the lone-drifter he is; while Sophie mooches behind stopping
frequently to see if he is following.
Right at the end of the walk I see a newly opened soft lemon magnolia; with large bulging velvet
buds and the occasional released flower, all wrapped in a faint sweet scent.
A large monarch butterfly the colour of rust quivered on the gentle
nor'wester and landed amongst the bluebells at the entrance.
Yesterday's spring wind has left bruised and battered magnolias in its wake.
The sturdy rhododendron's with their spirally arranged leaves and large flower clusters still
bloom in the warm sun.
As we walk under the canopy of bare tangled branches I admire the forget-me-nots that
mingle in the mist of the bluebells azure carpet.
So vivid is the carpet that slices of sunlight emphasize the colours and they change
from azure to a rich sapphire then into a deep indigo in the shadows.
A gust of wind tosses the crisp leaves in the air and we close our eyes briefly from the dust.
Further down the track sycamore trees are budding, lime green shoots touching the cobalt sky
laced with ominous clouds that threaten rain;
This is how spring begins, full of promise but courting winters tight hold.
The waterfall cascades over the rocks after heavy rain in the night, it smells fresh
and clean; the water lily's invigorated.
The valleys down each side of the waterfall are crammed with arum lilies, their erect yellow spikes
contrasting against their dark green foliage.
The warmth of the sun is restful where there is no wind at the bottom of the woods.
We start to scale the incline, ground underfoot slippery and muddy.
Two dogs appear and Sophie takes on the stalkers stance, heckles up.
They bound down the hill playful and mischievous only to be greeted by a bolshie
Sophie barking and snapping to her mother's embarrassment.
Laughter comes from the dog's owner aswe happily agree Sophie's belief In being a Rottweiler.
We rest on a seat in the sun, drinking in the radiance and warmth.
Fantails dance together, Tui's fight in the flame trees and a startled pukeko flaps away awkwardly.
The shrill of a male quail's warning perforates the quiet afternoon as
the covey of hen's scatter looking for safety.
Our walk at its end this glorious day between winter and spring.

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