Close your eyes
Bring back anything good
Words begin with w
Be the tree’s root
There’s a garden in Scotland called “Little Sparta” and it inspired me to
to be more creative with my own garden. The creator of the garden, Ian Hamilton, was also a poet but a gardener as well. Walking through the garden was like finding my magic. Around every corner is something delightful.
Selfishly, when I first saw the garden I was annoyed by the other people around me. In the same way a child delights in solitary exploration, I wanted the garden to be all mine for an afternoon. I wanted to be in love, holding hands with my lover, and exploring together through the glades, the hidden ponds, the tiny boats, and stealing kisses behind the gnarled oaks that bent down to shield us.
Lying on the flat stones by the pond, warmed by the sun, thighs draped one over and one under, arms under our heads, the sky hovering over us like a soft blue duvet, we slept for a bit.
The garden, filled with words, waited to be read by everyone.
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