Summer’s Syrup

A love poem by Tom Milner-Gulland

Inspried by experiences in Blenheim Park, June 2019.

In ice cubes’ streaks a squirl-pool breaks;
Honey’s drizzled on dragonfly lakes.
Yet bird song may but wail and whistle;
Archichoke’s heart is flesh and thistle.

Fruit hears, for on vitality we call;
Water ripens, for water will fall.
From fruit’s listening flows the bite;
From water’s glistening, paralysed sight.

Who’d pretty prickles by proud plants find
When owned by solstice’s amber mind?
Nature’s own is belonging-imprinted;
In sweet possession, love is minted.

Winter lies in marble tomb;
Spring’s long flaunted her open womb.
And as a plant the season so much is,
Light belongs to the eyes it touches.

But stirs the body, moulting chaste;
When Fruit had heard, I’d spring syrup taste.
Now, June sun setting, my heart cries often:
I would the moon your tears Silver-soften.

Dusk-light’s sorrows change your features
That water paths of pilgrim teachers;
When in amber the fruit was frozen,
Then in mint my love was chosen.