Plans II

The mist moves by like
clouds of smoke from some
huge fire.  The early sun
tries to warm-up the monochrome
day.  I sit with my tea
contemplating the day's garden
tasks.  I have a vision
of what I want
the garden to look like.  It
isn't there yet and I must be
patient - a habit I have
never acquired.  Busy crowds
of Spring flowers!  Lush black
friable earth between all the
summer riot!  No weeds,
no grass growing except in
the lawns!  Paradise in my
mind's eye - achievable
after many human years
and I look back.  The crowded
colour and soft earth is not yet,
but it seeds, it seeds.

One Year Round The Sun
Return to Collections all
next poem