Gillian Swain - #14 - Twig-snap and lemons

  In response to Kit's homecoming pics of the Markwell garden and in response to his poem:"Paradoxes of home".





They were waiting for you,
when you were on the tree house balcony
enjoying breakfast  sipping coffee and
drifting in the morning   the dam
waited patiently below  ready and mirroring
the day-start embrace.
Enough is the light spring from this small lake
to have you waking slowly.

Up to you the skyward flowers turn
typing denimed thighs with fingering petals
you wade back to  the earth of this place.
Reed and grass tall-ly wipe the sky into
hand's reach  it meets you
hangs cooling shadows from your back.

Twig-snap and lemons
land happy into hand  the other world
can surely wait,
this purity of yellow gold sings vast across
your welcome  branches laden with gift,
they were waiting for you.

Time is read by leaf clocks here and dirt cool.
Rest up in the heat  of what we call afternoon
Blue Tongue full with sun wakes
late from Coleas' door
reading boot-steps in dirt
floor language.

All the other world stays well away
in strangeness that cannot sit
among the garden it
doesn't mind how messy it gets
when you're gone
the work making is for you-
this soft riot and harvest of
reasons for you to stay.