On Gardening

At Grandma and Grandad’s (in Southport)

 

Digging holes, planting leaks,

pouring from the can,

firming down the soil,

when helping Grandad in the garden.

 

Cutting roses, falling petals,

reaching under hybrid roses,

filling up my little barrow,

when helping Grandma in the garden.

 

Sipping tea, swinging legs,

sitting on the blue bench,

talking compost on a tea break,

when helping Grandad in the garden.

 

Taking cuttings, lining out,

black thread stretched tight,

all around the nursery bed,

when helping Grandad in the garden.

 

Setting the table, fetching the stool,

salmon from a tin,

cucumber and vinegar, time for tea,

after helping in the garden.

 

26 February 2017

 

(Un)Done

This was written for a friend who had tweeted that they had ‘done’ their garden.

 

Warming sunlight

lengthening days

rustling stems

swelling buds

vivid unfurling

 

Emerging leaves

curling tendrils

plumping petals

blossoming clouds

pinkly billowing

 

Spreading waves

entwining stems

massing blooms

drooping heads

sweetly smelling.

 

Fading flowers

forming seedheads

falling leaves

shedding russet red

bronzed carpeting.

 

Muting colours

dripping branches

retreating life

remaining skeleton

earthy decaying.

 

Living, breathing

joyful messiness

forever undone!

 

March 2017

 

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