English Manor Garden


Watching the flowers bloom.

It never even crossed my mind,

that by the time

their colors would come in,

it would be too late for us.


I’m okay with watching things die.

Emotions always take

a back seat to utility,

but watching things grow;

man, that’s where it gets tough.


Pain and death

are natural,

and inevitable.

Just as the waning moon

and the cold ocean,

but that full moon

over a pristine beach,

the smell of flowers

and the sounds of laughter;

that kills me every time.


They’re really coming in this year.

The front yard

is gonna look

like an English manor garden

and I’m not sure

that I’ll be able to stand

looking at it

day after day.


I know that September

is only a few months away.

It is only just summer

and in this high country,

summer is fleeting.


There will be no escape

from the fecundity

of this season,

but it will end

all on its own.


It’s hard to watch things grow,

because for every growing season,

there is a season of death and loss

and every spring

it gets a little harder

to clean up the garden,

plant the flowers,

and wait

for them to die,

before putting it all away

for winter.


Yes, there is joy in the interim.

There is beauty,

and love,

and life;

there’s no denying that.

But, as time passes on,

we too recede in our season,

until one day

only the garden

will bloom.



HG – 2022

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