In A Rose Garden In A Forest Everywhere roses, in bud, in bloom, fading. Pale, brilliant, mellow ladies of cool elegance, or blowzily tumbling from their silk frocks. Swaying, nodding, trembling, as breeze slips through their green petticoats. Contentedly buzzing , bees blundering over golden-hearted flowers, drawn by a lust for gold and scent known long since fabled ancient Babylon, a lingering honeyed, deep, sweet breath. The bees and I roaming perfumed paths to a secret place, circled around with white blooms among green leaves and scarlet haws, hear a song the winds sing through tallest trees sighing an endless rush, like waves on a summer sands. Happiness, time for idleness, for contemplation, for me, hearing hidden, from the trees, among the roses, birdsong - a silvery soprano descant, over the bees alto humming. Enchantment in the sights, sounds and scents comes to me, in a rose garden, in a forest. Naomi Mitchell MacColl