Paradise, destroyed

The garden is here again.

Through the fog of a cold, I glance

through kitchen windows

and see that, suddenly the magnolia’s in bloom.

A little, plump, grey squirrel is perched on the swaying branches,

the birds are here.

The pom pom tree is unravelling it’s small, bright yellow flowers.

Soon, I shall go out and wander around slowly,

savouring all the new growth, and all the diverse shades of green.

Here, in this house today, I feel grounded;

gratitude comes easily.

The pale Spring sun light filters through our pale blue curtains,

making a soft blue light.

I am glad to be here, alive; today, what ever the future holds.

And I see in my minds eye;

the shrinking farm land;

the layered, white buildings with their multiple eyeless windows,

are moving down the hills, like Macbeth’s forest.

In invisible night, the olive groves, the olive trees,

are set alight; they burn like the Earth;

like women.

 

©   Ingrid Andrew<>HeartsSong

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