THE GARDENER AT CHRISTMAS
He has done all that needs to be done.
Rake, fork, spade, cleaned and oiled,
Idle indoors; seeds, knotty with destiny, rattle
Inside their paper jackets. The travelling birds
Have left; predicable locals
Mooch in the early dusk.
He dreams of a future in apples,
Of three white lilies in flower,
Of a tree that could bear a man.
He sits back and waits
For it all to happen.
U. A. Fanthorpe “Christmas Poems”: Enitharmon press
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