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Ponderings in the garden in late summer...

Out Here.

Fdf5205c-8b5b-4da8-a6dc-63fe28d680a9by Billy J. Stewart29 Oct 2014

There in the corner she sits,
Amidst sunlight dancing in a flutter, on blue petals,
Floating on a warm breeze,
Pondering it all,
Licking her fur and preening her whiskers.
Ah yes but the garden grows, all summer long,
Weaving a coloured backdrop to my memories.
Touching the quartzite stone, pink and sassy,
Cool and inviting in the shade,
I think of former days…out here,
Years ago that seems like only ten minutes,
To this old head.
Voices that once in joyous shout,
Aimed at me, urging to look and join them,
Splashing in Paddle pools,
Swinging a bat and then in the evening,
Stories to recount in the tent,
Hastily erected, torches, cushions and midnight feasts.
Counting bats, and listening to the fox,
Whom I deemed the Banshee…
And the garden grows.
Tall fingers of hardy perennials, blue, mauve, pink.
Caterpillars on the cabbage patch,
Newts in the pond, where they came from God only knows,
Popping the surface in lightning-fast air raids.
The big old tree drips down her long and trailing fingers,
Thinly leafed at the edges,
Laden in cherries,
Fought over by starlings, squabbling like some demented hoard descending.
And I remember you here.
There’s the stone, where Hammy is buried,
Gosh but the beads are still there, it must be ten years now.
And sitting on the old bench,
The one you painted “Racing green”,
I cannot help but wonder why time changes everything,
Even us.
The breeze picks up and with it, the tinsel sound above my head,
A soft sway of the branches.
The rose draws my eyes over,
My favourite one,
Growing, glowing in the big blue garish pot, by the path to the gate.
It never stops, always in bloom, always there.
Colour of Heaven’s peach.
Or at least how I imagine such a thing.
You always said I had the magic touch with plants,
But not with people.
So, out here, the garden grows on,
Out of the earth, towards the light, then back to the earth.
Drinking the water of life.
Aye…
And as it grows, I die a little more,
Out here, in the garden…