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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Putting the Garden to Bed

I am overworked
putting the garden to bed.
Gathering the roughage of leaves,
sacking limbs and twigs
from the bushes.
Opening the kimono
of Japanese Anemones,
and tidying their roots.
The harmonies of space and time
closing the pages of summer.

Loathing the cold,
loving snow and virginal kismet.
Things will happen.
What was spoiled become new,
a prophesy of seeds and bulbs.
The throaty calls of spring,
as catastrophes change
in the serenade of seasons,
and the faith of infinities.

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