One Garden Day
Worn gloves we donned, took to our knees
Black soil we turned, for bright pansies;
As tulips spied, rich loam we tilled,
Then spread thick mulch—a robin shrilled.
The sun beat down, not cloud-deterred
While, from the south, warm zephyrs stirred …
Then pause, I took, to watch my wife,
Her face carefree, unmarred by strife,
And, from a squat, she glanced my way,
Our eyes engaged, a moment’s play,
At last I winked, my love to share,
That garden day in fresh spring air.
Copyright © David Bose | Year Posted 2017
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