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.