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Wednesday, 05 March 2014


By Johna Ferguson

The rose petals are slowly fading, finally dropping to the ground.
The leathery fig tree leaves are becoming brittle, falling without a sound.

My garden knows the seasons, preparing for the long winter one.
Storing strength in stems and trunks, blossoms and fruit are now done.

It’s time to sleep under gray skies or a blanket of snow.
Deep buried roots will keep snug when harsh winter winds blow.

But when the sun breaks through, slowly warming the ground.
Life starts again and sap flows, ready for another go around.

Leaves sprout on bare branches, early bulbs burst into flower
My garden becomes filled with blossoms each and every hour.

And so the cycles go, around just like the hands of a clock,
But their secrets are something we can never completely unlock.

So enjoy your gardens to their fullest extent,
For they can fill many hours with pure contentment.

[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Please read instructions for submitting.]

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 05:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post


In my garden/lake there are many birds, large ones such as Great Blue Heron, Anhingas, White Herons, etc.
They too have their cycles, now competing for a favorite nesting spot over the lake. Yesterday a Great Blue Heron died in the lake, perhaps in a battle over the site. It is shocking as it is such a large bird, but as you say we cannot unlock all of these secrets. Nice, Johna.

Enjoyed your poem, Johna.

You painted a nice picture for me to think about in the midst of all this snow.

Your lovely poem was very synchronistic Johna - We are moving into Autumn here in Australia and just yesterday while walking the dogs in the bush I could feel the whole landscape starting to settle down, relaxing after our fierce summer and not having to prepare for your bitter winters thank goodness but still preparing "to store their strength" - thank you.

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