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

 garden 1

gardener 2

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