BUBBLE 4. – A Series of daily poems
Have slept the sleep of the dead,
Eight long hours
And getting up to the stillness
Of a sunny green world.
And, yes, poetry moving and shifting
In my no longer sleep deprived head.
After breakfast, I will gather my spade
And my hedge clippers.
I can see the work taking place,
The creepers I should never have planted;
And the strays.
I doubt if with weed killer I will spray
garden borders and edges today. But clipping,
There will be plenty of clipping.
There is not a cloud in the sky,
Hints autumn seductively! (I think not
After a glorious summer of heat.)
As I look up at the trees,
Soon, soon the dropping of leaves.
Good working days
Making for good nights of sleep.
Benita H. Kape © 18.3.2017