Poetry
I found something in the garden.
Sitting on a bench soaking hot
Drenched in a sense of awe.
Afternoon light, bright beams
Filtered by strands of green
Different shades of green.
Fine, dark and shrouded shadows
All green, hanging, creeping,
Lush in arrogant tresses.
Walled garden safe and silent
Only the thrilling fountain
Drip feeding my thirst.
It happened that day
I found something in the garden.
(C)2013 Sheighle Birdthistle (The Toga and The Rose pg.11)