The climbing vine,
With leaves and tendrils entwined,
Around my unused garden *****,
Such a beautiful sight they made.
Of that wooden handle worn smooth,
By my grasping fingers that grooved,
Lend me your beauty oh climbing vine,
For the garden of my soul to be soothed.

I see your shady greens,
Your emerald gates of earth,
Your vines entwined in pillars of time,
Lush green leaves conceding rebirth.
Your beauties grace in shades sublime,
And I so surprised to be standing there,
In those most glorious greens of you.

A Cloudy Prologue:
  
Do you remember?
When once you were but shadow and mist?
Shadow and mist you say?
“But no”, cries the cloud!
I have always been part of the light.


A Drifting Epilogue:

After a stormy night without clouds,
I rose like a dog to a sound
To the memories of my days yet to come
Yawning large in the mid-morning sun

I yawned like loves loss battered
Drawn in with music un-remembered
Or perhaps a wise old tree awoken
In young fields of silence and sleep

I mused however so briefly
on loves quiet definition of beauty
But could not talk a semblance of reason
Into the weather the clouds or the season

I asked loud for the clouds to stay quiet
Yet release their heaviness required
Raining syllables with color and laughter
As I ran wild in the glistening streets

Because clouds do not intimidate,
Only do they imitate.
Imitations meant only for one.

On alien shores,
   all waves do end.
Their dying breath,
   astounds me.

Black snails are drawn
to my vines of green
Sliding so silent
where my vegetables gleam
Slow yet steady,
from my distant dark streams
Running beyond the carrots and peas.
Sliming my spinach
The bottoms unseen
Black snails eat voracious
Till bare earth they leave
Destroying all growth
In my garden of dreams.