Through windows, I’ve watched the changing season,
The persistent shift of shapes and colours,
Until I’m enticed into the garden,
Where I’m ambushed by rampageous brambles,
And underfoot soil sinks as I amble.
The tree stump by the gate slowly decays,
Colonised by fungi, ants and beetles;
Overhanging birches obstruct my way
Through a forest of enormous nettles
And a labyrinth of crumbling mole hills,
Past wasp-studded plums and rotting apples.
Back inside, I survey my dominion,
Radiating warmth and satisfaction.
© Kim M. Russell, 2016
My response to imaginary garden with real toads The Tuesday Platform
Marian has shared a superb poem, ‘Autumn Movement’ by Carl Sandburg to inspire us to share our poetry, old or new.