Song to a Garden
I walked along a wicker road to somewhere clean. Sometimes when I think it’s time to go, a little bird comes along – whispering from a tree … “It is indeed a good time to be free, but the story of your life must still be told,”
How the fragile grass can survive the step is a miracle. As morning brings a feather of dew softly upon its green mat and the rain comes to renew it from the crush.
Once again, its spring is back; upright green, and so languidly lush.
it is startled in discovered ground to find it’s grown oh so much
My front porch is filled with geraniums,
My back door is steeped in the scent of honeysuckles.
I worry not, for flora and fauna are my friends.
They caress ma femme’ and circle her back again,
Abundant and rested
Abloom once again
And though the years have craved the younger bloom
I am not certain that I would want the tomb.
Lovely summer, and knowing autumn befalls me still
For each season is my reason to stay alive,
That is my will
I have given the glittered roads many a travel
Where in trials my heart unraveled the soul of a woman whose name is neither man nor woman
But my one authentic light bedazzled.
My one song
My garden universe unfrazzled
My resplendent repose
My garden leads me to its fair retreat
Where friends in their silent beauty, I am sure to greet.
With song voluminous -heartfelt – we speak- of none less than the flowers that lay about our feet.