Just Wanted A Quiet Morning In the Garden...
I just meant to sit, read and yes, lounge
Beneath a blackbird’s clear and poignant, insistent refrain,
To feel the warm, May sun upon aching limbs.
Soon though, the songster’s tune was truly lost
In Sunday morning’s ignorance, to my frustration and disdain:
Young shrieking children deafened, a wailing alarm infuriated,
A roaring lawn-mower heaved
And its owner’s highly-strung dog began yapping;
A scraping on my garden fence shivered my spine,
A hammer beat upon a nail,
A tarpaulin lifted, was then shaken, flapping...
I only meant to sit, relax and yes, bask
Within my garden’s green and resonant, prescient strain,
To feel the peaceful, spring calm upon ageing face.
Soon though, the blackbird’s song was duly heard
And Sunday morning’s quiescence returned with grace again...