wild garlic

POETRY

THE PATHWAY

By David SelzerJune 11, 20260 Comments1 min read228 views

The south east corner of the high garden wall

has been extended slightly to form a curved,

slate-roofed, white-washed brick bower

with a wooden seat inset into the bricks.

The bower can be approached from two directions:

along a narrow, gravel path between

the eastern wall and a well tended copse

of hazel and sycamore, where wild garlic

is abundant in the spring; or edging

through the scant, unkempt, mossy space along

the southern wall – past a row of holly trees,

the back of a large thatched playhouse,

and the south side of the copse. From the bower,

on this last day of summer, the air

murmurs with bees, and sunlight lingers

among the leaves. The edge of the copse,

the high stippled wall, and the untrodden

pathway beckon, beckon.

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By David Selzer

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POETRY

THE GARLAND

By David SelzerMay 21, 20151 Comment1 min read1.8K views

Walking on the towpath of Telford’s canal,
admiring the engineer’s genius,
from the horseshoe shaped weir on the Dee,
which siphons off the mountains’ waters
to fill the channels from here to Hurleston;
remarking the current that combs the grasses
that lie on the bed like Ophelia’s hair;
breathing in the smell of the wild garlic –
a favourite of brown bear and wild boar;
marvelling at its white starbursts, like snow
on the wooded banks below the canal;
passing the holiday narrow boats –
with their tvs and showers and toilets;
we round a curve and see, with the landscape
of river vale, fields and unwalled hills
behind them, three girls laughing and one
with a garland of flowers of wild garlic.