Sunday, February 08, 2015


In the village of
Mezin, rose briar
grows gnarly and
thick. Tall, crimson
hollyhocks arise
in disorderly array.

Our garden grows
wild again. Hours

Of youth in eternal
pause. Two magpies
quarrel overhead
not you and I.

of wild flower
fragrant poems.
New lovers
burst riotous color
into Spring.

Hidden, a garden
cottage where
the roof cascades.
A gentle rosewood
bed creaks and stirs
remembers centuries,

Of rose petaled
hours, unblemished
first love. Such a
wildflower garden
only reverie can

No comments: