The Gardener.

He came in grey,
A favourite colour with him,
Carrying a simple bag
With toothbrush and toothpaste,
Trousers and a kneeling pad.
The day was humid and sunny.
Got to work immediately.
Moving from left to right
Along the borders,
Cutting, digging, pulling,
As only Bear knew.
Filling the green bin
To overflowing with stalks
The unwanted excess
Of a mature garden.
She watched him
Busying himself,
Never stopping for rest.
It was his habit
This workmanship.
She loved him for it.

By Mary
Thank you to our Gardener .