Monday, 18 December 2017

Garden construction:

The soil tilled, watered,
made fertile; each clump
a mouth waiting to be fed.

seeds scattered by hand
into the striving green dreams
of what they might become.

Structures decided upon, the where
and when; Goddess moon guides
from a sympathetic distance.

Stakes and strings wait,
tiny tendrils, like fingers,
clasp and lift towards the sun.

Come harvest, the poem
is spread before alert eyes
for readers to feast or shun.

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