Tale to Tell

Glass bottle in the earth,    
hidden as rats in the compost bin -
left when glass bottles were commonplace,  
when the deeds were written -  
when a Lady knew her power and laid her plans.  
Earnestly, I turn it as it catches flecks of light  
and makes mystery of them    
across the shaded soil -  
where wild garlic and anemone,  
daphne and winter clematis are tipping  
over, almost -  
unnoticed -  
and I see these colours set ablaze  
in their final hours with a turn of glass,    
upon it's jagged edges,  
at it's mouth,    
small spikes of light, sprung  
from something unwanted, insignificant -  
of a period one cannot find nor travel within, only appreciate, only wonder,  
and I carry it in, with the head of an early crocus  
to sit in the kitchen -  
as a familiar friend.  
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published | Edited 17th Mar 2019
Author's Note
'The Garden Wall'
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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