by David Hollywood25 Oct 2013
Within my gardens soul abounds,
A spirit stirring neath the ground,
Aroused by secret depths that found,
Concealed, inspired, a place profound.
And as the rustling leaves surround,
With stories from the breezes sound
The haunting wind shall sing and pound,
Upon the life beneath this mound.
And in this knoll of moistened dirt,
Where worms dig deep into the earth,
The tubers turn to sleep from hurt,
As winter storms its first alert.
And slumber waits for times delay,
To show how seasons laws obey,
Arousal’s that deny decay.