The garden is my new city

I don’t just mean because it is the centre of all things

I mean

the tower blocks of blossom

the bees in the chimney

the skyscraper of activity

I mean

the birds commuting to and fro

oak to elder

plum to cherry blossom

I mean

the neon bursts of Spring

and the muddy paths lining the fields beyond

speckled with uneaten worms

I mean

the pollution of a Westerly breeze and birdsong

the morning frost

a smog of untouched dew

I mean

the sunshine filters through the stock sturdy trees

built to quake but never fall

without settling new roots

and I feel like I am living as much life I can be living

I mean

the garden

my garden

is the real eternal city.



Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

Signed copies on Etsy

10 thoughts on “City

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