PAINTING PARADISE
If I were a painter – and I would have
so many memorable titles – I would paint
your garden in all its rooms and seasons:
across the high back wall spring’s coral pink
clematis; summer’s sword-leaved, red-flamed
crocosmia by the aquamarine
gazebo; the white, weathered table and chairs
and the acer on the dark-brick terrace;
plants inherited, self-seeded, handed on
in stewardship – a world compendium.
You are the architect, builder, labourer –
and only begetter: ‘Sylvia Among
Her Sonnets Without Words’.
John Williams
August 30, 2019Some mesmerising lines, David, such as ‘crocosmia by the aquamarine gazebo;’ and ‘self-seeded/handed on in stewardship…’. Overall, a fine cumulative effects of colours and sensations, until the resolution in ‘a world compendium’ – such a great expression. Of course, ‘the only begetter’ compels.
John Huddart
October 8, 2019On the money!
Mary Clark
October 17, 2019I like this: ‘plants inherited, self-seeded, handed on/in stewardship – a world compendium’.
That’s gardening! Wonderful poem.
Claudia Barlow
June 12, 2020As always, yours is the poetry I love to read.