You And Your Plants

Echinacea Paradoxa.

You roll the words like toffee

smiling as you speak.

This garden is a mismatch

of colour and of smells.

Your patch-worked herbs

climbing through the trellises

until the wood creaks

and hides its grain beneath green.

You dug out these borders

and then crammed them full

of sprouting leaves

jostling for more space,

their flowers open faces

crowding in your wake.

The pathways are cracked

and full of creeping roots,

where the small, white flowers

choose to bloom.

Here there is chaos in the method

and beauty in rebellion.

There are no weeds in your garden,

and here I feel welcome.

Day Five and I’m still working with the prompts for once. I’m not what you would call a green fingered person. I love plants and I love flowers, but buy me one in a pot and it’s got a limited life expectancy. Anyway, I thought I’d write a poem about someone a little better in the garden than I am. I hope you enjoyed it.