Magic Garden
                                           by maggie
There is a magic garden
Where ancient tree trunks are
Wrapped in silvery tree bark  
Like the ghostly sheep not far
 
Dark thickness hangs above it
As bare the branches be
A trickling stream beside it
where hiding faeries see
 
The Ola crane’s bill trailing
The murtle and the fern
Lavender as its drying
And autumn as it turns
 
Brown, the prickling brambles
Looking like tumble weed
Yet now into the soil
Bore spring time’s flower seed.
 
The quiet magic garden
We’ll visit it again
Many other pleasures
Waiting for us then!
 
 
 
 
 

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