No ideas but in things

Across the garden wall
         I see a tall array
of common lilac blooms
         the flowered cones
dipping gently
         in the easy summer air
as they bathe in the sunshine
         that will prove to be their ruin :
their season is on the cusp
         and by winter they will be gone

I hear the sparrow’s song
         the drone of pigeons
the harsh cry of magpies
         and I know that nature
is there to be heard
         and to be seen
I know that it is
         performance
that it clamours
         for our attention
that it is in fact
         the articulation
of Eden
         there
for the discerning eye
         for the discriminating ear
the spectacle of life
         unfolding
the to and fro of time
         that we call seasons
all out of the mineral earth
         from which we too
are shaped
         a heartfelt home
that is of the mind
         that feels its way
through life
         sufficient habitat
for those who have fallen
         on their feet

John Lyons