What a gardener’s autumn knees are for
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Walking from one thought to another this morning.
This time you were ten steps into the garden
before you were stopped.
Spider’s line across your path, dew’s delighting gaze
Robin announcing your arrival, whilst Crow
Atop the old oak tree, calls out time
This time, here.
Whatever you had planned has gone now
Sun is lower in the sky than yesterday
Jack Thistle stretches out where the fruits of
your labours once were.
Bee samples the last of the cornflowers
And the whole grand thing just keeps on going.
Isn’t decay how we feed our ancestors and
those yet to come?
And then, bent and low down to the ground
One hand steadied on the tree you planted
so long ago.
Tied with ribbons from that time when you knew
you would need your courage now.
One more breath here, because you don’t ever
want to forget
And back into your home and all that awaits you there.
Except this time you made a little prayer first,
With the words and the hands you were given.