This poem describes a garden I just visited in November in Florida. Fall is one of two extremely prolific growing seasons in Florida, the other being Spring. Each holds its own delights. Hope you enjoy this tapestry. Thanks for coming by to read!
Globular yellow fruit,
Pendant and raw,
Puddles of passionfruit
Drip down my jaw.
Mounting the camphor tree,
Smothering vine,
Christmas balls drop to me.
Nobody minds.
Petting the tender shoots,
Poppies and stock;
Caressing ranunculus,
Ready to pot;
Housed in a ripple-roofed
Hut with no walls,
Transparent sunshine
Envelopes us all.
Collards and bok choy
And brocolli galore;
Up come the radishes,
Ripe, by the score;
Out go the marigolds.
Pumpkins go splat.
After this summer,
We’ve no time for that.
Now is the season
When salads are tossed;
Now, all the greens gather,
Ready for frost;
Now, all the bulbs will go
Slumber, and wisps
Of flowers-to-be
Will cause lovers to kiss,
Come Valentine’s Day,
When, full-bloom, with a ring,
Couples promise to wed
In the garden, in spring.
Copyright 2021 Andrea LeDew
For two short-shorts related to gardens read Let’s Talk Turkey and Deadly SIns.
I will hang this poem on my door opposite my bed so that I can read it at sunrise to cheer me up for the day.
That is so good to hear Margrit! Walking in a garden (weather in real life or on the page) is one of the greatest life-affirmers that exist, in my opinion.