A Garden is a Kind of Art.

A garden is a kind of art…but It will pass…
…it cannot last.

That great eternal ‘ lie in ‘ …Death…
which has no avatar,
Infinity which has no calendar…
That blank that comes in stealthily
Or gets us in a blink..
Will see the garden lose its shape
… this garden will disintegrate….

Trees will be felled … and birds… expelled,
to fly…or die without a nest.
The moss-pink blooms will be consumed
by ivy, nettles, gorse and briars,
Paths will be lost…the wooden garden gate,
Ponds will stagnate ..
Frogs will no longer mate to spawn.
And soon…too soon…this garden will be gone.

And I’ll be lying buried down the road
Pushing up the daisies which I loathe…
Choked by malignant brambles, jabbed by thorns,
Encased…entombed by roots of dandelion.

In silent graves of earth and stone,
freed from the daily lives we’ve known,
we slip into a nothingness,
And from that nothingness we learn…

A garden is a kind of art…but it will pass.
It cannot last.

Kristine Byrne. June 2019.