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Garden House*

Garden House

There those vulnerable snowbells lay,
quaking in the 'ary light,
one preemptive breath of spring
beneath camellia, crisp and bright.

In daphne, amber chaffinch sits
beside a stream of tumblestones,
magnolia strains to burst and flood
the oak bough, white, who gently groans.

Lichen lifts acidic heads,
a communal choir drying
and I can see it as it is,
the winter border dying.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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