Verses arrive (some of the time)
through the dark of soft soil
or the crackle glazed bases
of terracotta pots.
.
They linger under fingernails
or sticky weed hitch-hike
on a cardi
or the woollen tops
of Auden’s
grubby gardening socks.
.
They defy all the clocks,
any timely habits,
missions,
traditions
and seasonal gardening law.
.
They come when they want
sprouting and waving
through cracks in the paving;
spreading their tendrils and
savouring light.
.
Their roots are in prose
but their shoots give birth
to rhythmic philosophies
offered on loan
to borrowing poets
who write them but know
that the essence must hold
past the edit.
.
The next seeds are sown
while we’re pruning the lines
of Virginia Creeper
that sneak in,
gate-crashingly blind side.
.
.
Note: W.H. Auden, best known for Stop All The Clocks, had an explicit and metaphorical appreciation for gardening, believing it symbolized a healthy relationship with the earth. He incorporated this idea into his ‘Daydream College for Bards’, where he instructed his students to cultivate their own garden plots as an act of principled living against societal exploitation of soil.
Lorraine Voss (aka Ven) 