The summer morning,
it rises to the sound
of dogs greeting day, in garden near,
and Fuschia, waking in the morn
as Echium, leaning high to wall,
beneath, the flushed red rose.
The quiet Monday street
as school now rests its
satchel, and calmer road,
allows the slow worker towards
the stock exchange hope,
her act of faith.
The chapel bell rings out
again, its centenary sound.
The garden, cut grass
and tidied lawn,
with poppies peeping out from
underneath laburnums yellowed fingers.
And summer, waiting long,
its entrance to the stage,
to standing, tempered,
patient adoration.
mindfullness brings alive
and obvious makes thisness.

Bernard Kennedy

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/july-morning-mindfullness/