The Garden

by David Solway (March 2016)

On the clipped borders, a trellis of plums and cherries,

straight paths embroidered in choreopsis and monarda

and in the corner a strictly trimmed honeysuckle bush,

mint and lavender floating in the measured air.

 

Here the Lord will walk in the cool of the day

conversing with the Towers and Dominions

who form his retinue of Divine consent,

planning the new world, all fragrance and order.

 

There will be a pond scaled in water lilies and turtle shells,

beyond, a low embankment and a grassy terrace

made for strolling with a companion,

and a wicker loveseat not too comfortable—

 

a world like an English garden tiled in shade

trickling nectar for the hummingbirds,

embellished with pavilions and gazebos,

a little shed for tools and flowerpots

 

beside the parsonage embowered in clematis.

The Lord has had enough of deserts and stones,

the natural outcome of wild luxuriance.

It will be an English garden this time.

 

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