25 September 2011 § 12 Comments
By any other name?
My scent is dulled
My colour bled
My suckers rampant
Hack me down
Cut me deep
Burn my remains
Leave me to sleep.
Then tell me how
Sweet I smell now.
Pruned a rose bush this morning. Didn’t enjoy it much!
22 July 2011 § 13 Comments
The weary gardener sets aside the spade
Now heavy as the August day is long
And seeks a quiet corner in the shade
To breathe the flowers’ fragrance, hear the song
Of busy birds among the shrubs and trees.
The wren trills in the hedge; the thrush replies
With liquid notes, and carried on the breeze
The shriek of black swifts harvesting the skies.
Then all at once a midnight silence falls
Upon the garden. Nature holds its breath.
No pigeon pipes, no finch or blackbird calls,
And summer shivers at the chill of death
As in the whispering ash beyond the gate
The sparrowhawk alights to watch and wait.
6 June 2011 § 12 Comments
This morning brings
A triple killing:
Smothered with a grey cloud blanket;
The cracked ground
Drowned and beaten to a pulp
And my long run of hot, dry roads
Murdered in cold rain.
A summer born and dead too soon.
And the garden sends flowers.