A View from the Conservatory

From where I sit no houses can be seen,
Just puffy clouds ride the bright blue sky.
The world outside is encompassed in green.
The noisy street outside passes me by.

Who would think that lorries, cars and buses
Hurtle past our front door to the town?
From Hove station down to the Marina
The number seven bus speeds up and down.

Here at the back garden all is quiet.
Just the soughing of the warm wind in the trees.
The tall and graceful eucalyptus sways,
The bamboo rustles gently in the breeze.

The pretty leaves of ever-changing green
Of the false acacia please the eye.
A crow swoops low, he's come in search of food,
Then swiftly flies away with raucous cry.

The constant voice of seagulls fills the air.
I hear them calling, calling to each other.
The mournful cry of one low-flying gull
Sounds like a small child crying for its mother.

The rushed and busy world I do not heed.
I sit here idly musing in the sun.
I realise that I have all I need.
I count my many blessings, one by one.