The Wild Garden. Poem by Geoffrey Fafard

There is a concrete statue in my garden
A maiden with one arm gone, long vanished
Old smiling spiders lay under damp wood
Moss, green and cool, carpets the floor
Roses, petals spattered and wet, sweat perfume
There is danger and beauty here
The rain has just left translucent tears
So it is riotously green beneath these.
- - -

Snails and lizards glide, slow and fast
Fat cat grasshoppers abound
Bellies full of leaf soup
They leave holes in green
Like specially appointed air conditioners
Lizards have some trouble hiding
From stalking enemies and me
Sitting here pretending I can't see them.
- - -

It is all reminiscent of The Assam Garden
Before Deborah Kerr hopped to it
And I make tea from lemon grass and balm
With a pinch or two of mint and ginger
And converse with a young Olive Python
And how is your mother? I ask as she slides
Under the Mango tree and on...
Watch out Ratty or its dinner you'll be.
- - -

As the world roars on and screams at me
Through every pore of my privacy
Is it any wonder I sink deeper into the shade
Camouflaging myself in green dappled places
Within this wild garden, hidden from view
Lost in the protection of quiet solitude
With just my family of frogs and bats
And all my squirmy, pattery, pretty friends.