The garden in winter

is a mere hag whose rags
glint in the sun:
yet its poverty has laser clarity,
tangled in the tatters of winter copse
sparse rattle of twigs
that it shines through everything
like bare bones, with everything

else dissolved-
the blossoms to the roots,
the birds to their old nests,
the rodents to their burrows,
the garden's ecstasy underground,
all have returned, turning
the garden upside down.

Poetry by yoonoos peerbocus
Read 148 times
Written on 2021-04-13 at 06:30

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josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Brilliant and unique riff on a garden in hibernation. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this.