An Old Garden

It reminds me of an East Anglian landscape. This garden’s flat planes of grass give the illusion Of greater distance,the eye travels down them To the trees rising at the end. On this scene my mind superimposes Other ideas of summer days in hot places In flat fields stretching on either Side down to the sea. My eye enjoys the shape,the flatness The form,a symbol for so many other gardens And summer journeys on unknown lanes Across new landscapes ,delighting in them, In the space extending,and the trees A gentle contradiction to the horizontal meadows. In summer in recent years,what I remember Is the sun across these long,flat shapes. Looking at this small garden,I remember So many things,my eye sees through What is here,to far beyond What has passed and what is to come All contained here.