Morning in the Garden

Free verse poem

I live in a rural area in Ontario where the autumn weather is much like that of my childhood years in England, damp and often dismal. I have a long driveway leading to the main road where I can see for about half a mile in either direction and sound carries on still mornings.

The Morning Mist by Ray Majoran in Compassion Gallery — used by permission

(100% of profits from Compassion Gallery goes to charities around the world. I’m not an affiliate, just an admirer of beautiful photography)

Morning in the Garden

Air hangs grey and heavy in the early mist

like a cloud of damp smoke

Cold droplets soak my skin and chill my bones

It’s a dismal morning in the garden

Only tap-tap-tapping on the old weathered oak

penetrates the thick air

a vague memory of a poem from long ago

pulling my thoughts down to the soaked earth

Like intertwined ribbons through the trees

bands of gold and orange begin to float effortlessly

chasing the grey over the hill out of sight

heaviness dissipates and warmth melts the cold inside

School children call to each other down the road

Blue Jay and Robin search for a tasty snack

while chipmunks and squirrels echo the chatter of the children

It’s a good morning in the garden after all.

‘Til next time–I hope your walks in nature are always pleasant.



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