Poem for Sunlit Garden
Patience and flowers, longing and ecstasy
"It's so beautiful!" she said, a little breathless with her speed. "You never saw anything so beautiful! It has come! I thought it had come that other morning, but it was only coming. It is here now! It has come, the Spring!"
— from The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett, 1911.
POEM FOR SUNLIT GARDEN
I'll eat the landscape for my next meal Stretched out beneath the golden curtain of dusk, devouring the budding springtime Mild March caught between my fingertips and butter-yellow primrose running down my chin Ah, how well we eat! How happy is the sky beneath which the garden grows!
Spring dispatch 01 | 31.03.2025 | The bright, warm days are a gift of almost impossible beauty, as are the drifting daffodils and the happy songs of aerial birds. Long and light afternoons are spent out in the garden cutting back the roses and sowing seeds, waiting patiently for the cherry to break its blossom overhead. Working silently beneath blue skies, a perfect March weather gently folds my turbulent body into an embrace of stillness, as the determined thorns of the rose tear at my skin and send blood running lust-red across the backs of my hands. In the quietness of the garden I am free to lose myself in a long string of small and urgent tasks, submerged in my own inexpressible sense of longing, slowly forgetting the unfathomable darkness of the wintertime and returning to the brilliance of a generous Spring.
