There is a flower called, “The Impatience flower”
Which I am toying with cultivating
Purely as its name suits my temperament
And my current contempt for waiting.
Before I leave for work each day
Anti-clockwise round the garden, my favoured way
To take in last night’s progress report
Cogitating whatever Gardener’s World may have taught.
And yesterday I stopped at the poppies
There were three who were bursting to open
I could not help myself, from removing their shells
Had to do it, that’s my way of coping.
Today, I walked round, and unfortunately found
The peonies are getting me down
It seems like an age since they promised to bloom
A “Frustration” of Peonies, their new collective noun!
But I stood back, inhaled, and just took in the scene
As the vista congealed to a mood, so serene
And senses regained, my spirit now healed
They can wait till tomorrow
After which they’ll be peeled.
Let the ants do the unveiling of the peonies. Sounds like your garden is at the same blooming point as mine. -chuck
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It was late coming this year Chuck, but is now racing, full pelt!