Garden is a fragrance remembered,
Soft grass crawling with slow snail,
Birds singing of changing the world
While I was at the computer trying
To change it before the cuckoo did.
Garden is a wood tree standing erect
As if it was alive and pretending life,
Hosting evening birds chatting away
With slum kids playing street cricket.
Fence is a running shadow of bush,
Hiding controverting garden lizard
That had agreed with your nothing
As it vigorously waved vertical head
To every polemic from your poetry.
The spider is your world’s wide web
That collected season’s rain pearls
Sparkling for proud sun moments
But gone when you returned from
An olfactory inspection of jasmines.
Garden is mama reading in a swing
From life’s pages that would be ice,
A fire’s ashes and a river’s waters,
A death’s fragrance remembered.