Poetic Garden

The gardener is like a painter,
But instead of brushes and paint,
Her tools are shears, a shovel,
Sun and rain.

Of loam and peat
She creates a masterpiece
Gardening is no easy feat
Especially in the sticky heat.

Shears in hand,
She shapes the land
She snips and stakes
The trees and shrubs.

She picks the plants
To scent the breeze
Planting pink petunias
And purple peonies.

For worms and grubs
She creates homes to love
Amidst the soil and greenery
And butterflies flit in sweet perfumery.

Blooms of blue
Leaves of green
Add interest and texture
To the scene.

Pine trees sway
And wind chimes play
To symphonies of bees
And breeze.

Water pond dazzles in the sun
Frolicking frogs having fun
Lavender keeps the pests away
Chamomile soothes nerves a-fray.

The Gardener’s art
Is a labour of love
Her toils and sweat
Are without regret.

When she gazes upon
The scene she has made
Granny sitting in the shade
Kids at play on the lawn.

Honeyed blooms feed hummingbirds
She finds sometimes there are no words
To describe nature’s artistry
So she plants a seed.