Another Insignificance?

This poem was triggered by an experience in early July, during the unusually hot weather.


The undulating Jet Steam has seduced

the Linden into bloom with prolongued heat.

Cymes and their protective lime-green bracts

extravagantly jewel the darker leaves.

Intoxication beckons across scorched grass,

a smell of honey laced with lemon peel

entices to the Lime Tree’s shady boughs,

promising a splendid sensory symphony

of winged musicians mining that sweet lure.


Silence — a frightening, unexpected silence.


No breeze to whisper-stir  welcome shady leaves.

No bees to eulogise the waiting heavy feast.

Nature caught misstep, how minuscule the breech

that massively disrupts ancient connections.


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