My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Weeds in the Garden
Since spring, blackbirds have been singing
At dawn and dusk, squabbling and serenading;
Exhausted now, the garden is quite still,
Except for occasional echoes of a silvery trill.
Underfoot the earth is soaked,
In my garden trees and shrubs are cloaked
With bindweed, rolling down like lava flow.
The grass is clad in dancing blooms of yellow,
Adorned with raindrops from a recent shower.
A wasp luxuriates on a yawning flower,
Drunk from the heady honeyed pollen
Of burgeoning blossoms into which it’s fallen.
A froth of wild garlic and unfurling fists of grass
Make it almost impossible to pass
Clouds of midges and soft orchestra of bees
Among the sprouting branches of fruit trees.
© Kim M. Russell, 2016
Image found on www.dreamstime.com