Sirens and Spades

on a mild pale grey blue day

a precious gift this early in the year,

the garden taunts me to

come out to play tidy-up,

so pestered, I submit passively

swiftly donning rustic clothes,

gardens are beguiling places

enchanted lands where good

intentions fall spellbound to

wood sirens, leaf nymphs and

ochred succubi of the soil,

thus my bladed weapons

rendered useless and

under the hypnotic magic of

the untouched ruddy beauty

lying in wait there

I quell my vigour, sate my brio

and scurry back indoors satisfied

Published by grahamrsherwood