The Wind in the Garden
I thought at once, how life so sweet
Would see me in the garden.
To toil the withering pedals
And over-seed the underbrush.
Mused by this vision
I break to pour the coffee
and pull up the leather fringe of my collar.
Guess not who holds me
In the open range,
but the wind that blows about
and rings out through the whistling trees.
Far beyond the shadowy cliffs
Gathered round my melancholy sunsets
To whom does the wind stalk?
And have the likeness of nothing
Known to me…
It breaths
but cast no shadows in the midday sun
it lingers behind me like a child
lost in endless laughter.
I felt to answer in desperation
But the toil in the garden is bearing no fruit
and I have turned to face the wind.
Behind me came a lurking shadow
That drew the points beyond my own.
I fear to turn for which I do not know.
But warmth gathers round me
And its arms are reaching in with whispering tones.
Pleading to my hopelessness
Withering me softly to curiosity.
Slowly I turn
Mine eyes are set on a blossoming garden.
My heart is reveled in joy
The fruit is ripened
and the foliage lush and green.
I have seen the vision manifest the true s
in what love has to offer.
With the wind at my back
Standing in the shadow
of the woman at the garden gate.
as well
enjoyed!!!
Love Tinka