The Gardener

Golden muscled arms
glistened with sweat
in the heat of the late morning sun;
they rippled with raw strength
and made his task look effortless.

Perspiration soaked and darkened
his blonde curls
flattening them to his handsome head.

He knew he was being watched
of course
and performed accordingly,
stretching and bending
his supple body, then
arms akimbo, lightly touching
snake hips,
feet planted firmly apart,
eyes staring enigmatically
off into some forbidden zone
making him seem mysterious;
he knew he was being admired.

What a pity his brain
didn’t match his magnificent body.

How funny it was to see the roller
carry on as he stopped;
how hilarious to hear his howl of pain
as it flattened his plimsolled foot.