Gardening

The best way of seeing a garden is in the rain,

a dewy-eyed tribute to the world of weeds,

all vying for your attention in a window pane.

There is no time for decorative water beads.

The ice-glazed winters gloss over each stain,

fully formed in glasshouses like sharp reeds.

In the solar panel of the luminescent sun,

that haze embellishing the scenes,

a new era has been set and spun.

It reminds you of what time accurately cleans.

The spikes and thorns are never done,

regularly forming weather fronts on greens.

There are networks of roots and stalks,

each more verdant than the last.

Wordsworth and Clare should do talks.

Their well of inspiration doesn't really last.

The poetry is in the life journeys of walks,

most notable for the natural treasure of the past.