In Search of Life

by on February 9, 2013 :: 0 comments

I searched for seeds I cannot
See in the largest pods I know
And in the hunger of this frustration
I eat again this lesson.

Ground damp and fertile I pause
Before I sow; up or flat I ask.
Being wise I take a second
And put them to bed together.

He up, she lying on her side
Each week I visit, dusting
Tidying, drooling as I go.
I tell them stories they don’t like

Of tarts and desserts and splits.
Of pies and sandwiches. Of funny
Slippery tales. I wait.
One sunny morning I cast a jealous

Eye towards my neighbour’s patch
And slowly permit myself a peep.
I weep to see the growing harvest
Wink and point my way.

I shout my first annoyance.
And dip and dig to chastise,
To find they’ve all left home.
A yellow note is posted on their bed

In writing all grown up,
‘Look wisely you silly man’,
And there they were all waving
From all neighbour’s fields.

editors note:

A gardener’s life can be a “seedy” existence, a lot of work to make salad days for the neighbors. – mh

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