I am looking through the eyes of Spring
at my exploding garden,
drenched with Beauty,
a gift waving at me with the
motion of the urgent wind
on this lazy Sunday,
now expressionist,
flooded and smeared with purples and yellows,
reds and pinks,
surrounded by vivid green and pure white,
all colours of the rainbow alive,
pulsing,
with the pot of gold existing here,
dazzling,
and I can see Monet drooling over
the scene, resurrected from Giverny,
steady paint brush in hand,
standing akimbo, taking in this
doomed moment that will
fade with the revocable passing of
the season and the coming of Summer’s
stripping of colour to brown
and lifeless green.

 

5/10/2025