A Beautiful Find

A walk to the bottom of my garden
looking for a poem; pigeons
above me in the pines, dove-grey
like shadows from the umbra
of the other side of love, dimples
of serenity slide like slow bubbles
from their beaks...a meadow-lark
obese with song...the scent of lilies hangs
heavy in the air – tulips with a midnight
centre; the sunlight overhead, broken
only by the silence of the trees. The cat
next door, legs akimbo, tail curled
around a sprig of thyme. Wild jasmine
peeps over her trellised screen of green –
a pink and white kimonoed temptress,
and a wedge of wild swans – took
to the sky, walking to the bottom
of my garden, looking for a poem –
finding poetry instead.