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a quaker garden

by Peter Humphreys

At first sight, many
must have missed you.
Past the old wooden table,
and the wall of yellow tendril flowers
you thrum in all your glory;
apple trees
green and redden
laden with sweet firm fruit;
a broad lawn
trimmed with saffron,
pink and purple blossoms
fecund with pollen
worked by bees;
strawberries,
their frames sheltered
by green leaves;
and the final glade,
a sigh
of tall and unknown trees,
behind a wedge of hedgerow,
astride a shaft of green
soft earth.

Ten resting graves
in rows of one.
A hand-made swing.
Such harmony speaks
to me
of you
and the blindness
we are losing.

07/25/2005

Posted on 07/25/2005
Copyright © 2024 Peter Humphreys

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Heide McAlister-Bates on 07/27/05 at 10:23 AM

Lovely message woven with beautiful language - superb.

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