Rose Habitat

i grow them
in the garden:
roses, aphids,
ladybirds.
an entertaining
world, a place
to rest,
relax and think

roses are red
or pink,
yellow
or white.
aphids are
nasty things,
farmed by ants,
ladybirds are
carnivores and
save our plants

therapeutic:
gardening,
hands scooping
up the soil,
so rewarding
as we tend
green things,
blessed by
beauty and
fresh foods

i’d like to
share the
beauty,
lighten up
your day,
so someday,
when your world
comes back,
you can come
out to play

meanwhile,
we chafe
and weep
and wail.
it is
no fun
at all,
watching
the sun
cruise east
to west,
all the
stinking day

nothing lasts,
we might
survive
this plague
living in
cages we
create,
we stay away,
in case
you’re sick,
or i.

i grow them
in the garden:
roses, aphids,
ladybirds.
an entertaining
world, a place
to rest,
relax and think

Daffodils in Springtime

Daffodils in Springtime

daffodils
in springtime,
brighten up
the day,
a small
reminder
maybe,
there is
so much
to say

some of it
has meaning,
maybe,
some of it
profound,
we trust.
some is
like an
old car,
mostly
falling rust

a garden
is a
lovely thing,
like a
sweet old girl,
and growing
things are
precious too,
all around
the world

there is a
beauty in
us all,
something
special there,
we need to
let that
beauty rule
our lives,
don’t neglect
to care

you and i,
and everyone
are part of
something fine,
and yet
we need
humility
until the
end of time

it could come
quickly
for us all,
before we wish
we’re done,
and some of us
may wish
in vain,
perhaps,
for a bit more
simple fun

some, i see,
walking talking,
standing
on the street.
i know i may
not understand,
their rhythms
or their beat

daffodils
in springtime,
brighten up
the day,
a small
reminder
maybe,
there is
so much
to say

Close up
and vivid,
requiring
desaturation,
a face
presents itself
for closer view.
Summer was golden,
hot as can be.
No answers
and no mysteries.

Tucked under
more important blooms,
some pansies
take up little room.
Their colours
good and as you see
there is no need
to rescue me.

From up so close,
or far away,
the garden
brightens up my day.
Fingers in dirt
(there’s weeds
to pull),
it doesn’t hurt,
the day is full.

It seems chaotic,
all these ragged petals.
Pink peonies
add some brightness
to a garden,
to a summer day.

Chaos is a universe
we never see
because we
cannot understand.

Feedback sometimes
reveals chaos
may have patterns.

Not long ago,
it was so beautiful,
attracting bees
and delighted
glances.
Sometimes even
picked
for brilliant bouquets.

Red and yellow,
as I almost remember.
Or maybe
it was pink,
double blossoms,
with ragged edges.

Another day,
or just a few,
and suddenly,
petals are fallen.
A sign
of middle age
or maybe
senescence.
Something interesting?

I never was
that pretty,
I declare.
But time rolls on
for all of us.
No one is spared.
My own petals
have long since
fallen,
on the ground.

What character
is left?
And have I learned
a thing?
Something to share?
Anything that
resembles wisdom?
Or, at least,
a not-too-boring
story?

Colours bright
or colours dim,
we notice
whats in focus,
and as shadows
trim our image,
add water
to the dust,
things grow.

What is a weed,
but an unwanted
volunteer.
A garden’s
not the same.
You walk
on water?
That’s a
different game.

A volunteer
can be a
great thing too.
Flowers can grow
from unexpected seed,
and welcome,
none of them’s
a weed.

A little beauty
sneaks into
the picture.
A little colour,
bright and amazing,
a garden like
her garden,
makes your
heart sing.