In the urn a torch has lit the busy-lizzie.
Officious pigeons start some vague proceedings.
The crowded, brightly-hatted nasturtium audience Raises green parasols against the sunlight.
A far competitor thuddingly puts an apple.
Crouching upon his starting-blocks, the weeder.
A blackbird stutters to its take-off.
A bee on the lavender fails the pole-vault.
The privet's made ready for the coming horses. Routine dope-testing: wasps seem all unready.
What mighty throw will come from this squat figure, More arms and legs than most, poised in the circle?