wildwestwind: I Saw a Garden

Michael's Fáilte

Welcome to these writing warmups, blatherings, rantings, meditations, perorations, salutations, latest and those on time, those narrative, declarative, interrogative, gollywogative and other outdated, belated, simulated musings, perusings, shavings and other close calls, with no disrespect intended, that's why no real names included whenever impossible to avoid the guilt that came in the crib for uttering something that would hurt or injure those in authority, being of everlasting servitude to all and sundry, having chosen the road not taken and the frost on the pumpkin long before the kettle turned black or the cat found its own tail fascinating,
Your humble servant, etc.

Monday, July 18, 2011

I Saw a Garden

I saw a garden I was small
bushes flowers weeds were all
the same to me back then
things green woody bright or dead
contained within three walls
we lived in the city
shared a house with other families
though the war was over
several years before

one bathroom for the house
a manual wringer squeezed the water
from the hand-washed clothes
and lurked like some enamel clad
iron beast on the way to the garden

safe in the garden hours alone
though small I'd read King Arthur
his knights his Roundtable
exploits and adventures
robins and sparrows sang out
as I crashed through the thicket
swinging my sword of milkweed stalk
snapped off that morning

cobwebs hung dew laden
like lace set to dry in the sun
I left them there