jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Season After Season


The garden beds never existed
twenty years ago where a sloping
hill begged to be cut into by an old man
in a bobcat, while younger men

With shovels and levels laid stone blocks
across the yard with precision
and speed, like a kid building
a lego wall for the umpteenth time.

As youngsters we ran carefully through
the new garden, leaping on one stone
circle after another placed in no
particular pattern by my father,

While in between young flowering plants
and herbs and shrubs learned
to adapt and prosper in the rich soil.
Season after season my father

Experimented in the garden,
purchasing deer resistant perennials
from the nursery, using his spade
to plant the new and rearrange

The old, pruning in the Spring
and deadheading in the fall,
raising them as if they were
his second set of children.

In midsummer we visit with our own
little ones who love to hop through
the fully mature garden, abloom
in shades of red and green,

Yellow and purple, blue and orange,
with barely enough room
for anything new, still babied
by the man who raised them so strong.



june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Single Post Navigation

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: