Harvey Taylor


In back of my house
thereís a vegetable garden,
recycled from a parking lot;
my sister, whoís also
my next-door neighbor,
has a fantastic array of flowers.

Since Iím surrounded by
blooms and greenery,
itís natural for me to see
my life as, among other things,
a garden:
thereís a compost heap
near the honeysuckle,
digesting my experiences,
turning even the rotten ones
into food for the ground;
there are poems germinating
from little seeds of inspiration,
young plants just sprouting,
and others that are mature,
ripe for harvest.

This being my garden,
of course it has some wild plants,
otherwise known as weeds,
which especially interest me;
and even on a winter night,
when the gardenís hibernating,
barely raising the thick white blanket
with its slow, rhythmic breathing,
thereís always something going on:


Harvey Taylor
January 2006

Last edited by TeganDowling.   Page last modified on January 31, 2006

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