Thursday, November 21, 2013

The Fall Garden

The Fall Garden

The lily has folded
her summer-gold hands

now as the storm slides
whispers from trees

in amber reluctance,
 vermillion release.

The womb of the lily
is growing her embryo

in white wooly root-wrap,
unworried by snow.

In the Fall garden,
Death's treaty is negotiated;

a sleep of the senses
for a winter of dreams.

~November 2013

55 buried bulblets for     the g-man

My back has decided to object to the frenzy of fall clean-up chores I have imposed on it, so bear with me if I don't return visits till I emerge from my meds in a more conscious condition. 

Image: Lily, by Leonardo da Vinci, c.1480
Public Domain, via


  1. How lovely to be the first to comment on such a lovely poem. It makes me wish I could negotiate such a treaty, like a bear, and dream the winter away.

  2. What a lovely way to think of it, a sleep of the senses.... I will remember that line.

  3. death's treaty being negotiated...def evocative of the dying garden...even still it is for a season and it will rise new on the spring...for now though a sleep of the senses...

  4. Love the lily and summer folding gold hands. There's a touch of sadness her, but it's steeped in peace and I love it.

  5. Joy...
    A beautiful tribute to a cycle of life.
    I feel so proud of myself to not have to read
    one of your story/poems twice (or more).
    Loved your Lily-Livered 55
    Thanks for playing, thanks for not having a Nightmare,
    and please have a Kick Ass Week-End

  6. So beautiful, especially your opening and closing lines - highly satisfying to read, brought to a close perfectly.

  7. as good a tribute to the fall of life and the sleep before renewal as I've read ~

  8. This is a deeply rewarding poem, Hedge.

  9. The magic of rebirth and renewal (and beautiful words).

  10. Ah lovely--beautiful subtle sounds. Kind of a pre-Easter poem for me--I love the way that you have personified the lily--I have a sense of hands folding in the stalks and some kind of old lady with wooly underwear--oops--no, that's just the mirror I passed by. k.

    ps - so glad you are keeping up with 55s. I've just been too pushed. k.

  11. Love this peaceful look at the fall garden!

  12. So soft and beautiful, hedgewitch...much like the first magical snowfall (whose beauty wears off quickly for me, but I still get excited when it first shows up). There is something special about the autumn's exposed and vulnerable.

  13. Your poem reminds my why I love this time of year so.

  14. yes, death's treaty... written up in words that whisper beautifully, comfortingly, of rebirth

  15. fluid and luscious. each of your lines packs power and beauty. I do not get a sense of inane hopefulness here, instead, I completely enjoy the sense of being in the moment re. negotiations with death's treaty. no small talk here. your rhymes carry this poem as a song, and I especially love the visual of "in white woolly root-wrap"

  16. Your poem makes me think of sleeping beauty.

  17. A perfect 55-word bulb that blooms while dying and dies to bloom. Plenty of that gold wattage to shine on through winter's dark.Old folks like me can use some of that harvest. The last two lines are stellar. - Brendan

  18. That opening couplet made me smile--what a wonderful image, and what an ideal way of expressing it. Seeing the gardens turn brown and curl up in the late part of the year is always sort of bittersweet, to me. I like the nip in the air, and because i am somewhat photosensitive, i like the overcast days, but I also love the life and fullness of the plants and trees in summer, and am quite sorry to see them go. So, I love your poem about sleep and dreams, rather than death. Gentle and beautiful writing, Joy, with just the right touch of melancholy as well.


"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry." ~William Butler Yeats

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