Planting Out (Poetry)

How it hurts now — not having a garden —
one small patch of earth
walled, fenced or gated
boundaried for show of ownership
and veiled for seclusion

A modest territory
green and flower-dotted
with a seat or two for taking tea
or simply sunning
watching Nature do the work
of growing things

The would-be gardener is grieving
for a lawn to love —
a tree to hug and cherish
seeds to sow with spells
of quiet encouragement

My heart has tender leaves —
imagination buds
my fingers know the soil
and there is, I know, a plot somewhere
that’s waiting empty
for me to come and claim it —
plant it out.