I have settled and grown up
Here as a child where the
Garden is full of flowers and fruit
And the river is a rainbow.

The smell of peat fires in the morning
And warm crusted bread wafts
Slowly down the lane.

Wooden crates full to the top
With apples, pears
And strawberries
Are left outside the front porch
Ready to be brought
Into the cottage
Where the juices fall
Into an outstanding
Fruitfulness.

Roses hang still over the river and blossom
Into wine
Where also in the garden of light
Bullfinches, sparrows,
Chaffinches sing
And daisies and buttercups lie
In a sweltering sun
Of perfumed heat.

Over and over the green hills
I look down into the deep valleys
Where lakes are flavoured with
Pineapples and waterfalls
With damsons.

The garden of apricot jams, willows
And lily ponds open and spread
Their tasteful colour in an
Orchard of beaming texture and an
Opening of real wonder.

In our thatched white cottage
Smoked hams saturated in salt and fat
Sit above the crackling log fire
And the rooms are filled with gloominess.
A particular charm drifts through
The place from the
Warm glowing fire.

- Oh how the light passes through the
Whole house and how each window
Is a copy of glittering diamonds
That spreads
Across the musical garden of bells
And down onto the cobbled path
Where the geese
Flap their feathered gowns and fly off
Into the blue mountains
Where their
Feathers fall into the sun.

Cider is drunk by the gallon
From cider presses
And the fragrant
Ingredients are a special delight
Not to mention what it does
To the mind afterwards
As we drown happily
Upon the grass
Reading poetry
Or kissing our lovers soft lips
Under the shade of the trees
There the dove calls from the tree tops
Where our earthly hearts are scattered
And nearby a rose closely shimmers
In an azured wood.

©Jack Aylward