England Travels to the Equator

…..

The oak tree, royal in another land

Where roses thrive and make the air go still

With orange, pink and purple scents, is spanned

By English summer breezes, those that spill

Across the squirrel’s nest and garden lawns

And take their fill of Englishness to bear

Around the globe, perhaps to tropic dawns

Another day where palm-tree parrots wear

Their screaming voices out above the flowers

Of oleander and banana.  Hints

Of apple branches blend with sudden showers

Through sea breeze touched with coral ocean tints.

The warm is touched with tinctures of the cool.

The oak tree’s breath drifts past an atoll’s pool.