May is upon us and my thoughts have turned to the summer and what I'll do once the school year has ended and we are free once more.

Usually we summer on the Aegean in Bodrum and each time we return we discover new changes to the place and to the people we know there. Three years ago this garden existed; last year it had been razed to the bare soil and eight apartments (four two storey blocks) been built there. The chickens were still running around, everything else has gone. This year I hope it will have regrown to some extent.

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THE OLD TURKISH GARDEN

Black iron railings hid it from our view:
plumbago blue and orange trumpet vine.
Cloying jasmine urged us trembling through
into that garden never to be mine.

Raw sprinklings of black pepper made me sneeze;
I never knew it grew on trees so feathery and fine.
Red peppers laid out drying in October’s breeze
in a garden that’s not mine.

Chickens scrawny scratch on knobbly knees,
their rare exotic colours mixed so feathery and fine.
Seedful figs sweet ripening in October’s trees
in a garden that’s not mine.

Sage and sorrel tall dust-dry soil seize;
aubergines top marigold leaves so feathery and fine.
White vine-tumbling grapes foretell next autumn’s wine
in a garden that’s not mine.

Here is the turning of the year displayed
in golden maize heads feathery and fine.
I only wish for ever I could stay
in that garden never to be mine.