65. Karina Bontes' haiku 'slipping' -- inviting Jacqui Malins into the garden

 

slipping

autumn falls amongst

bittersweet days of rainwet 

slow flaming slumber 

64. Peter Groves' 'Instinct' - inviting Karl van Dyke into the garden

 

INSTINCT

When winter thaws out into spring

and warmth oozes with the busyness of bees

and flowering fragrances and trees

are vibrant with the songs of birds nesting,

there are no greater displays of ecstasy 

than the neutered dogs and cats shedding

their domestic connections 

to writhe in the backyard glass, offering

up their furry bellies to the sun.

63. Ellen Shelley's 'Sweet Peas' - inviting Peter Groves into the garden

Sweet Peas

 

I surrender to the slowness of a day

press my face into the scent of things

I would normally rush by. The leaf of a fig,

the flutter of a moth disturbed on my skin.

 

There isn’t much to remember about this day:

insistent showers, the cancellation of plans,

a lack of energy from the beating outside.  

But at least the humidity will keep

 

my sweet peas alive. Even after shoots were dropped

as the pot slipped onto grass through muddy fingers,

and white tendrils tangled in a mesh of green.

I dug a hole. Gently scooped in cupped hands

 

a maze of dirt and fronds. Tied their limp threads

with bamboo to a sheet of lattice against the grey shed.

Tomorrow after a recalculation of distance from the sun,

they will puff out, lean into the climb, and learn to go it alone.

 

 

 

 

62. Sarah Parker's 'Autumn gathers in leafy light' - inviting Ellen Shelley into the garden

 

Autumn gathers in leafy light

A bird calls and is answered.

A leaf falls and is carried.

Water has no fixed place.