The North Terrace gardener
- jeffpoet
- Apr 25
- 1 min read
The North Terrace gardener
claims as part of his uniform
the inconspicuous green of lawn and trees.
As part of the landscape he is an invisible
link between order and confusion.
He is the quiet space in traffic
and the gap in rush-hour feet,
he holds in secret code and cipher
planting times and prunings.
Backs of his weathered hands are veined
in the patched colours of autumn leaves.
His face is an unfolded map of four seasons
the calligraphy of lines and light and shade.
He can be found anywhere and everywhere
the surprise of his boots in dry fall litter.
Steam from his morning tea mug flags
in thin ribbons from his green garden shed
and it is he that riots in red salvia flowers
beneath statues on this cold July afternoon.
These poems are from my new collection IN THE APRICOT DARKNESS (view the cover and contents below in my recent posts). They are now being published individually, daily under 'recent posts' on my blog and will be available shortly as an eBook that can be read online or downloaded for free.
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