Pastiche

Above ancient valley of this remote panoramic

landscape of commanding hills, rooks ride the

wind under passing clouds; teasing farmers and

their ploughs, as if in a crazy dance, portraying

with ease this moment laced with earth's harvest,

while in garden beyond stone wall; follow crunch of

shingled path down to a hoary, aged potting shed,

sequestering silence; seeking wisdom, searching

understanding of garden plans; peppered with

personal beginnings.

Awareness interrupted by family of dormice who

hunt and play, they scramble like acrobats with

clenched toes to reach their booty, quivering

whiskers guide them through brambles; where

puffed up cheeks are full of ripening fruit.

Easy to get swept away like each new phase of moon,

catch a breeze as thoughts turn to bright cottage garden

flowers, mixed with pastel shades...those climbing

sweet peas, holly hocks, delphiniums, a sea of yellow

and golden marigolds, edged with sweet lavender,

pruning of course so time consuming, but! Oh, to catch

combination of wild release...yet calm serendipity, as

evocative fragrance would this form of art give pleasure

to my appreciation; where bees and butterflies appear like

a breath of fresh air.