Watchful gardens, vigilant grow,
tread thy touch men high and low.
Falling chaos, thunderous sound,
a stark truth which doth redound.
Bathed in blood, flushed with green,
light and darkness thou hath seen.
Many a’season hath thou stood,
yearning sentience, innate though good.
O! poor welcome of the living,
ponder I upon thy misgiving.
The walk of all men thy abode,
paths and endings, serve thy ode.
Live to watch, breathe to bury,
envy the fallen, thou wilt with hurry.
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Poems & People 
“In all these eons, the gardens of this earth witness to our misdeeds, must surely envy our temperance too.”
Surely they’re too pure to envy.
And surely you know I wrote this in metaphorical supposition 😀
Uh, yea.
🙂
I had a moment a while back with the 150 year old trees in the park over the road, where all of a sudden their presence was felt as truly living, like standing next to another more dense, stranger, slower breathing form of life. And I wondered what they must think about all that racing around and carry on they have to witness, and then, without us, their beauty could not be celebrated either. Thanks for the reminder! Nice work.
What an insightful anecdote?! I can not help but absolutely agree with you.
…thunderous sound,
a stark truth which doth redound.
Bathed in blood, flushed with green,
light and darkness thou hath seen.
– It is an installation artwork 🙂
So vivid. Beautiful.
Thank you Vic, you are too good to me.
Not at all, I assure you. Praise ought to be given where it is due 🙂
I just wanted to let you know that this poem will be featured on my blog, as part of my Saturday Poetry posts. I hope this is OK with you.
That is not a problem at all Cate, thank you for letting me know in advance.
You are more than welcome, hopefully it will send more people your way 🙂
YOUR WRITING IS WONDROUS !!!
Thank you so much.