Where the stream is a path
up the sandstone boulders
and the path is a stream,
there are shell-pink buds
of dog rose, sowbread, cranesbill, 
one lone orchid, mysterious
blue flowers I can’t name, 
- and wild thyme.

'Look!' I call to the dogs 
as they rear and plunge 
through drenching grasses, 
'I've found us thyme!'
But they do not heed me, knowing
full well they have time in abundance, 
full well they'll be granted to live again 
twitching tonight in their dreams
this beautiful afternoon.