Rockhollow by the Pond

Title: Rockhollow by the Pond
Four of Thirty
Unique Words: One Hundred and Fifty Five


#NaPoWriMo2019

I take coffee, coat, cob-clogged boots and tumble
out of the kitchen door,
down Nigella plugged steps,
across tired decking, lawn, vegetable and fruit raised beds
to the pond, surrounded by stones, shells and driftwood I have collected
from the beaches and rivers I've swum in.

Wild garlic stands to attention,
florist and woodland anemone dance
under iced breeze, bluebells wiggle
up from dark earth.
Arenaria and Begonia consider carefully
their willing to flower in this new position.

I pour shavings of cucumber into the pool,
clouds of blackness rise
- a flurry,
both ravenous and argumentative. I settle,
on the untreated sleeper edge and watch them
- fighting for their freedom.

Proudly, I sup coffee,
zip the coat a little tighter,
indulge this moment in its bleach white sky, in the greens of the foliage and pool, in the blackness of the living and the purple of the anemones.
I inhale it all.

Birds scuffle on the telephone wire,
peas grow surrounded by old grounds in the bed opposite,
tadpoles flutter frustratedly -
sharing amongst sisters and brothers.

Quietly, once cup is done, giddiness is over
I let myself into the Summerhouse,
shut the door, turn heater on, do all the things that life requires -
bills, bookings, diaries.

Somehow the mundane seems less depressing
with a view this lush
and light.