R
Robert Harrison
Guest
HER GARDEN
I awoke to the scent of rose that came in through my open windows.
The sun tipping the horizon left her garden criss crossed with shadows.
Wisteria, soft blue in the mornings early light, embraced as lovers do
In the arms of Honey Suckle. Beneath their feet Catnip held the dew.
Each drop captured the eye of the sun, prisms conveying to my sight
A green carpet speckled with diamonds, countless in the morning light.
A cloud, silver lined, a backdrop to the Stringy Bark and Ghost Gum
Swaying to and fro to the music of an early morning breeze which from
The south blew, to next send scurrying leaves in merry whirling circles.
Then on to play betwixt and between Morning Glory in pink and purples,
She shook the sleep from the eye of each blossom as each unfurled tips
Of delicate hue greeted the dawn and awaited the bee with tempting lips.
From night to dawn then to a glorious new day, all became alive and breathed the breath of life.
To beautify the earth, with songbirds in merry lay, as I looking out onto a garden belonging to my wife.
Magpie dressed in black and white cocked her head, is perched on the handle of a forgotten garden spade.
Listens to the sound of the caterpillar eating from a bed of lettuce, would soon in the Magpies beak be laid.
All of nature revolves around four glorious seasons, each one giving to its own children their time of birth.
So I look and I marvel at all which is beyond my reasons, how my wife fosters the children in her plot of earth.
I awoke to the scent of rose that came in through my open windows.
The sun tipping the horizon left her garden criss crossed with shadows.
Wisteria, soft blue in the mornings early light, embraced as lovers do
In the arms of Honey Suckle. Beneath their feet Catnip held the dew.
Each drop captured the eye of the sun, prisms conveying to my sight
A green carpet speckled with diamonds, countless in the morning light.
A cloud, silver lined, a backdrop to the Stringy Bark and Ghost Gum
Swaying to and fro to the music of an early morning breeze which from
The south blew, to next send scurrying leaves in merry whirling circles.
Then on to play betwixt and between Morning Glory in pink and purples,
She shook the sleep from the eye of each blossom as each unfurled tips
Of delicate hue greeted the dawn and awaited the bee with tempting lips.
From night to dawn then to a glorious new day, all became alive and breathed the breath of life.
To beautify the earth, with songbirds in merry lay, as I looking out onto a garden belonging to my wife.
Magpie dressed in black and white cocked her head, is perched on the handle of a forgotten garden spade.
Listens to the sound of the caterpillar eating from a bed of lettuce, would soon in the Magpies beak be laid.
All of nature revolves around four glorious seasons, each one giving to its own children their time of birth.
So I look and I marvel at all which is beyond my reasons, how my wife fosters the children in her plot of earth.
