POEMS FOR MARY'S GARDEN
24 pages, hand-sewn
IN THE BACKYARD
It all begins here. Where you
Some of these neighbors
may be older than I. That tree
is well over 100 feet tall…
The stone Buddha facing west
has a canopy of a bush
and sits in front of the magnificent tree.
I notice a small figure standing nearby
appear to bow, rise again
and scamper away. The squirrel
ran up the lemon tree, paused at the sound
of barking dogs over the fence in other yards
and retreated back up the big tree.
The Tibetan prayer flags flapping on the cord
strung between the big tree and the lemon.
This back yard
is a sufficient slice of green
and calm and beauty
to satisfy any one.
The fronds of the big fern, the flowers
purple blossoms, rocks,
the old wooden glider by the roses.
The law of the jungle too
is practiced here. The squirrel
the cat, the raccoon and always
the barking dogs over the fences.
The sun follows it’s cosmic laws
setting a minute or so later every day.
The flash of the setting sun
on the squirrel’s fur
which first caught my attention
as he bowed to the Buddha
could not happen now…
The dark blue of evening has come.
Lights turn on in the houses
POETIC LICENCE APPLICATION
The string holding the prayer flags has broken.
No longer connected to the lemon tree
It trails from the large neighbor
The colorful flags
undulating in the morning breeze
Torn-end of the string caught in a bush.
The flags free
Sunlight shining thru them
String not touching the garden floor.
[This poem based entirely on fact.
No object or activity has been changed
due to application of poetic license.]