Matinees in the Garden
Because caring hands keep the garden
weed-free
and cut withered blooms that are
done,
Because morning dew awakens new
buds
and the earth is warmed by the
sun,
The splendour of colourful grace
and beauty
never seems to come to an end;
Because there's a season for each
fair bloom
they perform, then bow and bend
To a flourish of picturesque paradise
awaiting the stage and their scene.
Because the clouds weep from time-to-time,
scent freshens and leaves remain
green.
Because sun sets on the embroidered
beds,
the glorious colours rest;
Then, once again, the following
day,
they dance their elegant best.
Flushed, fragile, painted, magestic
-
a magical atmosphere
Because our fair flowers perform
for all
on a garden-stage that's near.
Joan Adams Burchell
(copyright)
