Late butterfly
Basks in opportunity’s
Cloudless blue.
Dew-cold shadows creep
But in the light
It’s still summer.
Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2016
summer
Dusk Honeysuckle
To the dusk
Flowers put their moods
In scented wafts
On which the eyes might close,
Deferring to the only open sense
Of the tantalised nose,
In which such enrichment
Is found in sweet distillate
Of earth and loam:
The mind somehow
Washed in perfumed sherbet,
Cleaned by something
Made perfect,
Alerted to the essential element
Volatile under the mid summer moon.
Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2016
England’s Summer Beneath The Trees
Wood pigeons
And the soft-throated dove
Strum the hollow harp,
Cooing summer lullabies
Of love and sunshine
And offering
From feather-puffed breast,
A purring resonance
Put to the warm breeze
Replete with lawn mower whirrings
And the sweet green scents
Of grass, newly cut.
Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2016
The Dream Of The Balancelle
En Francais
Il es une balancelle
In English
A swinging chair
Hung in the languid air
Shaded by the rustling oaks
And caressed
By a honeyed breeze
In to which
The birds twitter
So the mind
Is temperate
As the perfect afternoon
And thoughts
Are spaced
As the young apple
And the quince tree
In the orchard
And time
Is the lolling arm
Let loose
From a snooze
And the comfortable rocking,
Gently to and fro,
Dans le reve
De la balancelle.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
Importance Of Swallows
What is more important
Than summer swallows,
Blue on the wing
Hot on the lifting air
Fulfilled by rising insects
Swarming on scents
And invisible particulates:
The blooms of the sky
The language written hieroglyph
And aerodynamic,
And perfectly attuned
To being – – almost weightless?
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Holiday
Just saying the word
Is enough to quell
Its worrisome opposite.
You appear
To have swelled in breath
And buoyancy
Around the chest.
And more,
Your face is full
And your eyes
Are lit,
And your smile
Has spread
So a yellow sunrise
Wells
And the summer
Crests,
And you
Absorb
As much
As you reflect.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
For Mima
Summer Breeze
Summer breeze
Gentle in the leaf tips,
Rustling silver in the sun,
Playful as the lovers
Whose bough-bodies bend
And flex below:
Their hair too
Is wind tussled.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Summer Lavender
Lavender,
In silvery swathes
Of purple spires,
Marks midsummer
With every scented
Brush-past.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
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