His Garden Poem by james watkin
His Garden
With its own sky, in proportion
To its private-sized bounds
Within that greater circumscribing
Of it, his own world's grounds.
Gated below, to welcome above
As wide for smile, opened
Within his rights to call, each spring
In bird a returned friend.
Rained, if but one cloud at a time.
Sunned on, independent
Of next door's next moment's embrace
Of life; foreign to scent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 6:23:20 AM # 1.0.0.1119
