Peacock fans in trees
Smoke turns gold to grey
Taste of ash on tongue
Over-ripe, flowers seed
For next year’s Spring
And you say: ‘Another year
older,’
We smile,
Knowing now
That summer is a sweet cup
Soon drunk
Kath Sunderland
Peacock fans in trees
Smoke turns gold to grey
Taste of ash on tongue
Over-ripe, flowers seed
For next year’s Spring
And you say: ‘Another year
older,’
We smile,
Knowing now
That summer is a sweet cup
Soon drunk
Kath Sunderland
Mungrisdale Writers 
I love this! The last lines are pure magic!
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