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If I were a painter – and I would have

so many memorable titles – I would paint

your garden in all its rooms and seasons:

across the high back wall spring’s coral pink

clematis; summer’s sword-leaved, red-flamed

crocosmia by the aquamarine

gazebo; the white, weathered table and chairs

and the acer on the dark-brick terrace;

plants inherited, self-seeded, handed on

in stewardship – a world compendium.

You are the architect, builder, labourer –

and only begetter: ‘Sylvia Among

Her Sonnets Without Words’.




© Copyright David Selzer
4 Responses
  • John Williams
    August 30, 2019

    Some mesmerising lines, David, such as ‘crocosmia by the aquamarine gazebo;’ and ‘self-seeded/handed on in stewardship…’. Overall, a fine cumulative effects of colours and sensations, until the resolution in ‘a world compendium’ – such a great expression. Of course, ‘the only begetter’ compels.

  • John Huddart
    October 8, 2019

    On the money!

  • Mary Clark
    October 17, 2019

    I like this: ‘plants inherited, self-seeded, handed on/in stewardship – a world compendium’.

    That’s gardening! Wonderful poem.

  • Claudia Barlow
    June 12, 2020

    As always, yours is the poetry I love to read.

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