Keeping July

by Joanna O'Sullivan

Dens of chairs and blankets,
a circus show at home, 
lines and nets and rackets, 
no-one keeping score.
Eight books each to represent, 
a fox in socks surveys, 
on July first the power went
and the movie was delayed.
Calves the very height of style
in all their sepia glory,
starlings at the seaside
taking inventory.
Lettuce growing rivalry
in green and purple lines,
questions answered silently,
learning to tell time.
Rapunzel can no longer hide,
rooster calling on repeat,
Gorse clicks and crackles from all sides,
a nineties dance floor beat.
Chippings, pavers, rollers,
our road consolidated,
filling tearing, smokers
keep children fascinated.
A linnet pair on seedy heads,
thrushes gobbling berries,
an old pink paper license,
explaining pounds and pennies.
Old heads of lavender
on thin but sturdy stalks
we edge through the calendar
these days not to recall.


As featured on
The Daily Gardener podcast:

Words inspired by the garden are the sweetest, most beautiful words of all.
Keeping July

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