MY AUTUMN GARDEN (Marcail)
While wailing winds whip at the gate,
The cold grey sky's about to cry,
The fallen ones meet autumn's fate
Winged warbled warning: death be nigh.
The cold grey sky's about to cry,
Spent buds bend to the final blow,
Winged warbled warning: death be nigh,
In fading light and near shadow.
Spent buds bend to the final blow
Withered, browned and downed to knees
In fading light and near shadow
Plump pillows made for sleeper's ease.
Summer spoils spill on the ground,
The fallen ones meet autumn's fate,
Where saprophytes in spring abound,
While wailing winds whip at the gate.
6 comments:
Lovely photo. I also liked the poem! ~ jb///
What a beautiful poem. It has such a sweet cadence to it. Nice picture, too. Do you really garden? I was just thinking today it's time to put my garden to bed. So many things have to be moved this year, I've been dreading it. Recalling this poem while I do it will make the chore seem lighter.
You have a rowan tree?
Really like the line "when wailing winds whip at the gate."
There is no garden without a gate.
Thank you all. We love our garden. Gardening is my meditation. It's an labour of love. Gardens are great metaphor generators, don't you think. This probably started with our "fall from the garden" and our desire to "return to paradise."
Bernita-rowan tree? If you say so. We just put things we like in and hope for the best. Roses love it here.
Lovely poetry.
Looks like you've been doing it for a while!
The red berries look like rowan berries.
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