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



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



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s