Tea and Biscuits

[Keith]

a good edit, just the one nit and the one falter, other than that it's solid.

2nd Edit
The scent of cut grass drifts on the last of the evening’s heat,
house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
the fanfare of squeals has gone from street,
bumbling Lancaster's are on their last mission,
midges take flight tracing unseen figure eights.

The garden, water colour, vibrant and balanced, would the 'water colour garden' work better?
sunk on stained frames, burnt from the days offering,
tinkling cups chatter aside crumbling rewards, ripe for dunking,
tired bodies claim rested moments quiet and calm,
eye's stretch into cooling shade.

Stella snaps at a hover fly,
too hot to move, spread under the Maple,
her tongues rhythm adds urgency to a parched mouth,
best china clinks, fingers rise to the occasion,
the dryness of the day runs golden amber.

Penny's on our eyes we slide, embraced by our place, should it be pennies? this line feels a little awkward.
we bathe in pale sunlight that fans beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed yellow beaks tap for their supper
and listen for the waiter with cocked heads,
a half-hearted bark breaks our trance,
just in time, for another biscuit.


1st Edit
The scent of cut grass drifts on the last of the evening’s heat,
house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
the fanfare of playful din has gone from street,
bumbling Lancaster's are on their last mission ,
midges take flight tracing unseen lissajous figures.

The garden, at its best carries colour, vibrant and balanced,
sunk on our kissing chair, noses burnt from the days offering,
tea cups stand proud above a plate of biscuits, ripe for the dunking,
tired bodies capture rested moments quiet and calm,
the sun’s angle allows eye's to stretch into cooling shade.

Stella makes us laugh, snapping at a hover fly,
too hot to move from her cool spot under the Maple,
her panting adds urgency to a parched mouth,
best china clinks, little fingers rise to the occasion,
the dryness of the day runs golden amber.

Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in brief sunlight that falls beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
a token bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit.



Original
Our garden drifts over to meet us on the last of the evening’s heat,
the house bricks radiate warmth from a day’s baking,
bees are on their final run loaded with pollen,
bumbling Lancaster bombers on their last mission ,
midges take flight tracing unseen lissajous figures.

The garden is at her best she carries colour, vibrant and balanced,
we sit on our kissing chair, noses burnt from the days offering,
two cups of tea orbit a plate of biscuits, ripe for the dunking,
tired bodies capture rested moments quiet and calm,
the sun’s angle allows eyes to open into cooling shade.

The dog makes us laugh as she snaps at a hover fly,
too hot to move from the cool corner of her step,
the fanfare of playful din has gone from street,
best china clinks as our goblets rise to the occasion,
and the dryness of the day runs golden amber.

Contentment closes our eyes and slides us back in our seats,
we bathe in sunlight that blankets beneath the trees,
sleep finds my lolling head and thoughts nod unfinished,
landing tiptoed birds listen for their supper with cocked heads,
her bark breaks our trance, just in time, for another biscuit.

Thanks Billy, its been on a diet so tried to remove the prose feel.