|The swing in one of my favorite spots.|
|Inside the Sibley Horticultural Center|
|One of the stained glass season windows. This one is summer.|
This is the garden: colors come and go
This is the garden: colors come and go,
Frail azures fluttering from night’s outer wing,
Strong silent greens serenely lingering,
Absolute lights like baths of golden snow.
This is the garden: pursed lips do blow
Upon cool flutes within wide glooms, and sing
Of harps celestial to the quivering string,
Invisible faces hauntingly and slow.
This is the garden. Time shall surely reap
Read the rest here.
Tabatha Yeats hosts the roundup today at The Opposite of Indifference.