June

The curlew calling from the river fields,
the willow warbler’s soft insistent tune,
and cuckoo, not too near or far away:
the myriad drowsy sounds of early June;


The scent of dropwort in my border bed,
first meadowsweet along the narrow lanes;
goldfinches with their young on thistledown,
as baby blue tits flit among the canes;


Eight young goosanders race in mother’s wake,
as I stand on the aqueduct to see;
a sun-kissed afternoon of dappled shade,
with may’s discarded petals falling free.


We sang ‘Jerusalem’ the other day -
a blackbird answered from the churchyard yew;
he sang on as we sat to hear God’s word,
and in his liquid song that word was true.


O Brother Jesus, did you walk these hills
to grant your blessing? Bless us in our praise,
that all our sweet remembrance of this time
may carry through to winter’s shorter days.


Brief glimpse of heaven, sound of angel song,
that this year’s June has brought us, may it stay
to lift our hearts, and lift our hearts again,
make glad our spirits, guide on love’s bright way.