Get rich quick: go and set up a flea circus!

It is Summertime
like in the George Gershwin song
the grass is waving, tall
& my step -father's rich
& my mom's not bad looking
(still despite being in her late years)

In a mansion house
that is a museum
someone is polishing
a large copper ***
& dusting the books
in the old library

A vagrant locked out
of childhood haunts
in my dreams I walk
along a country road
The grass is waving, tall
it’s summertime
like in the George Gershwin song

Railroad track
in ole' tall grass singing
small crickets chirping

Wings like eyes flickering, breathless soul bared to the world

I'm watching an old Soviet movie
one without English subtitles
the whole day it hasn't stopped raining
the opening shots are of a foggy

seafront, a lone figure walking
a guy on a bicycle holding a puppy
riding past someone leaning on the corner
of a house in which the light

suddenly comes on & a couple appear
later on, a budding romance
between two holidaymakers in this, the Crimea
slow-paced, this movie reminds

me of an Aki Kaurismaki
& I want to share it with the world
& muse on how the Crimea
saw Pushkin, Chekhov, Mayakovsky

amongst others visiting it's shores
the whole day it hasn't stopped raining
& I don't know if I feel even more English
now or Russian or whether it's all just a trick

Our Buddleia is now in bloom
as a ' Butterfly Bush' also known
The water gathers on the purple flowers
from July's  slow, sultry rainy showers
Oh what a lovely summer sight!
When in the sun, butterflies take flight
& land upon the bush in their glory!
The Buddleia stands abandoned today
the Sunday city lies beyond
it in the distance & I'm reminded
this is such an English day
the kind we don't see on postcards
( though is talked of much)
& has to be lived through & felt
A day breathed in in great lung-fulls each
time you come back from being away
in case it disappeared & left
you reeling & sank into your memory
like Atlantis sinking eerily
into the restless Sea's waves
the Buddleia knows of this
& calls me to admire it in the rain

It's just the Moon
that isn't there that watches
us and grins on slowly