Well worth the limping
We set off walking, rucksack picnic packed
south to the garden botanical, indirectly
round the up and down, the in and out of hidden coves and cliffs
secret sunny places, October bathers and boaters
me with my knee, the left one, shouting at steps
several thousand at a guess
in earth and rock and brick
but on we strode and limped, with stops for views
through parasol pines, the blue of sea and sky
gnarled and knotty branches twisting sideways
until the garden, ah at last, and gorgeous from first glance
paper flowers, bougainvillea,in all the hottest shades
orange, purple, crimson, pink
rampaging up and over, twining in curls
my favorite light blue, sky blue, plumbago, still profuse
Spain being warmer by degrees
and tree upon tree, cork oaks, araucaria, cyprus, mimosa
(acacia, four varieties at least) with palest yellow fluff
of flower, yet visible, palms in a grove
giant cacti clumped in family groups
acres and acres on the cliff edge, clinging
spread and grown in ninety years of loving cultivation
the long ago vision of an English woman and her
Russian, settled in Catalonia.
Shrubs and trees and flowers, botanical reference and legacy
pepper, musk and sweetness, scent and birdsong bursts
and for us, well worth the limping
Thursday picnic in Paradise.
October 2015, Calella de Palafrugel, for Jude
We set off walking, rucksack picnic packed
south to the garden botanical, indirectly
round the up and down, the in and out of hidden coves and cliffs
secret sunny places, October bathers and boaters
me with my knee, the left one, shouting at steps
several thousand at a guess
in earth and rock and brick
but on we strode and limped, with stops for views
through parasol pines, the blue of sea and sky
gnarled and knotty branches twisting sideways
until the garden, ah at last, and gorgeous from first glance
paper flowers, bougainvillea,in all the hottest shades
orange, purple, crimson, pink
rampaging up and over, twining in curls
my favorite light blue, sky blue, plumbago, still profuse
Spain being warmer by degrees
and tree upon tree, cork oaks, araucaria, cyprus, mimosa
(acacia, four varieties at least) with palest yellow fluff
of flower, yet visible, palms in a grove
giant cacti clumped in family groups
acres and acres on the cliff edge, clinging
spread and grown in ninety years of loving cultivation
the long ago vision of an English woman and her
Russian, settled in Catalonia.
Shrubs and trees and flowers, botanical reference and legacy
pepper, musk and sweetness, scent and birdsong bursts
and for us, well worth the limping
Thursday picnic in Paradise.
October 2015, Calella de Palafrugel, for Jude
From Gill Masters:
ReplyDeleteI was with you every step of the way whilst reading this poem please please put them into a book.