Garden As Launch-Site

Purple octane flowers that rocket to the sun,

amazing vapour trail mounting skyward at noon

through the perfumed stratosphere of gardens,

over the soft green skin of the natural world,

you are a blast of sweetness from vast engines,

a firing of energy in silence, incredible

soundless explosion of flowering sunships lifted.

Where drunken butterflies of seven weeks

act like fins to guide the lavender upwards,

where astronaut bumblebees ride nose cones,

buzzing with the message of a joyful lifework,

you are weightlessness without responsibility,

gravitation of the aristocratic planet.

And travelling through magnolia forests,

stopping to rest in aerial beds of spearmint,

I climb through realms of fire in amazement,

transported into fantastic regions of summer