Friday, 19 September 2008

beyond my back garden

beyond my back garden
is a waste area
where long sandy blonde grasses
half camouflage crushed empty beer cans
and cheap wine bottles

but just over the gentle curve, past the half-fallen fence
there's a steep, slippery slope
down, down where bluebells grow
spread like confetti amongst the trees
and broken branches
in the miracle, Spring

and hiding, but if you're careful you'll see
myriad wild flowers whose names I never remember
but tick them off each year
in our wee wild flower book
yellow, white, blue and white, golden

and we step carefully so as
not to disturb their beauty
down, down again
to the edge of the Cadzow Burn
which runs from my home
to my mother and father's home

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