The Greenhouse At Leu Gardens Poem by Barry Middleton

When winter gloom is all my view,
and days, like harvest fruit,
weigh heavy on a weathered frame
too weak for such a load,
then I know a place to go,
where domiciled as warm as June,
secret orchids fuel a passion fire,
and fragrant walls in tropic bloom
reflect the damp
of loving August nights.
The colors there
are set among the green
like Genesis in rhyme.
Saurian fern and cycads grow
below an ancient roof
now glazed with primal moss.
Yet I feel these panes of grizzly glass
are facets in a rare gem,
the ransom for broken winter moods
till the season yields.