A push-mower drones beyond a copse thick with raspberries, an antique off white wooden trellis adorned with a delicate banner of many peach-hued roses, feminine in their June resplendence, when they were newborns opening, they ascended the sturdy trellis and gracefully arced, a floral fountain of dancers, In the morning coolness their tiny dew beads tears give way to the bold sun's flirtatious kisses grand, as afternoon's song of a wren's free will enhanced my desire to be lulled to sleep in the shade of maple trees, as the coy peach roses nod in wavelet assemblage. ~