Quickening her steps,
mind stumbling in anticipation,
she heads out the back door
into her morning jungle…

Once upon a time,
her gardens Life
had been orderly, forced
into strictures of
straight-line thoughts
of youthful exuberance,
but not any more.
Nature turns in Time,
softening Man’s crystalline sight.

She follows her usual path,
inhaling honeysuckle-sweetness
as she savors the waist-high
cliff-backed garden, held up by railroad ties,
a mish-mash of inter-mingling
flora life. Peppermint Geranium
and needled, dusky Rosemary
have wedded, cozily.
Proud Salvia offer their red nectar
to hummingbirds, as pale purple Verbena
thread the dark green foliage, snakily
twining and peering out with sibilant glee.
Monstrous white-flowered Lily plants
reach down to greet
the frolicking Asparagus Fern,
years-long companions, totally content
in their maturity.
Reaching the short, sunny side
of the length, she admires
Sunflower babies scattered about,
Strawberry fruits and flowers,
and the ancient Sage plant
of wizened, craggy design.

Garden gazing done,
she heads down the side of the yard,
under towering, latticed heaven
of Honeysuckle glory,
inhaling deeply, richly,
Nirvana on earth.

The sprawling white-hued
Tombstone Rose is flourishing,
next to the Lemon Balm shrub,
its sharp citrus-scent released
by gently bruising fingers.
The long row of Iris’s,
now spent, add spears of rigidity
to the length of the front fence,
ending in the miniature Rose Tree,
its seasoned trunk almost
two inches thick, suckers
in need of cutting
fling themselves up to the sky.

Under the massive Sagauro skeleton,
attached near the roof,
Sweet Williams profuse
their joy of color, wildness
of their darker-hued Verbena lovers
a blanket of affirmation.
Down the last, narrow side of the house,
the deep, blood red of
the Don Juan climbing rose,
dangle into the path, creating
euphoria to the eyes and nose.
Here white Violets have
commandeered the
lower strip of territory, while
twelve feet of dark green Jasmine
are now opening thousands
of perfumed stars in shimmering
array, top to bottom, covering
two windows and encroaching
on the third, she has reached
the end, she is refreshed,
and content, with the
willful wildness
of her jungled garden.

Erin Moen
5/3/03
Copyright 2003 ©