The Final Word

Absorbing the beauty of the garden
even while acknowledging how tired
it is, worn from its endless enthusiasm
inciting foliage to luxuriate in the
elements of summer, exciting blooms
to spectacular display, the drama of
the garden now awaits its final, sorrowful 
act, expunging the exuberance of summer
the steadfast determination of fall
to finally reach the impasse a succession
of frosts determine. It is time to wrap up
its splendid joy in life, its presence and 
its earned conceit and admiration in
equal measure. The garden's faithful
companion, still finding a wealth of
firm texture, form and colour to tease
her gardener's eye and please the passion
of his gardening soul, face the inevitable 
with the reluctance of pensive denial.
Surely it is too soon to discard the annuals
cut back the perennials, tidy the shrubs and
ornamental trees! The garden landscape
gives pleasure still in the remnants of
summer, the hardiness of fall. Yet
experience knows how it must now
proceed, to transform delight into a bleak 
and empty garden; this the final word.