Bedding The Garden

Our rhapsodically beautiful 
gardens have been devastated 
at the very hands of those who
hopefully planted and tenderly
nourished it; destroyed entirely,
a tragic ritual of fall. When in
experienced anticipation of
seasons lapsed and the steady
approach of the great winter chill
we have chosen to tuck into
memory how our gardens
appeared, to succour us over
the cold white months ahead
when implacable nature's onslaught
conspires the wholesale slaughter
of graceful form and luscious
colour of all those growing things
unable to take temporary haven
in the sheltering confines of
the garden soil. Dismal, desolate
devastated. Gone the vibrant
living greens, the golds and the
crimson, the peachy delights
of delicate petals and the
insouciance of privileged
flowering treasures, vines and
shrubs, exotic and protected
cultivars, the pomp and the 
pride of the garden: farewell.