Observation poem on gardening,
influenced by A Line-Storm Song, Robert Frost. |
Garden Out the Door In of the box-stack-house I dwell For many a year since hermit's birth; Come rain, come shine tucked in my shell Never much wended beauteous earth. This one morning the rains were close- Packed like a storm-bath to drown a bird, And I in stale daydreams of bard From reverie thus quick arose - The sound of dad filling his pail Hence out to feed the plants would he; (The lines of green in the corridor Lovingly tended by hand and bail). And trice! gathered thoughts, out the door - A rain-cat's yearn for biology - Light-slippered feet as rains so tread And I thus in deep learning's need Heard dad teach through hand and pail: In every fern there's a thing called life Lesser to mammal without the soul; But by no less has God by strife Bestowed each their growth to pole: Through hand and pail of toll, you see Step by step we sow our seeds And sweat through age to tend their needs (Say a cocoon amongst the leaves - To spread his wings must push through sheaves Of silk-spun leaflike shell did he) Look! that green cherry 'neath her shade As if shy of clouds to peek, Leaves' parasol of nature made Hid her youth like maiden meek; Then another lady! another man! This young lad well past his prime - Lush red star 'midst green to scan - And I cherry-faced with eyes sublime Saw through leaves the rains had thinned (Somewhere to my left old dad His telling voice long dipped as wind But rustling through my mind a tad); And now once more from reverie This from fresh scents of rain and bloom - Sweet from stale of monotony - A heal bell to my thinking gloom; And turned from orchids, in the door Lithe as a cat to bedroom tread And rhyme to page thought's cocoon shed To pen this garden to sweet Lenore. |