At Avondale House and Gardens 2012
From dark canopies of Sycamore
to wide grassy lawns,
along a gravel path
down cement steps
to a country cafe.
Beneath vaulted ceilings
of broad triangles,
rotund pine tables
by open sash windows.
Spent carnations
in earthenware vases
strong tea, white cups
hot apple tart and cream.
Crack in a jug,
milk circles intersect
on the wooden surface.
Sunlight cups a silver spoon
slices of life reflect in a knife.
In the gardens
pine and copper beech
brush a vast day.
Swallows loop long grassy banks
on a wing of sky.
A cherry blossom tangles
through an old lilac,
family roots of trees
in soft mossy beds.
Rush of a rusty river
over foam filled rocks,
birdsong through my fingers
warbles on my page.
Head in a leather bag
rosy pink lady
crunching along
an Indian Summer.
No comments:
Post a Comment