The h2g2 Poem: Four Ages of a Gardener
Created | Updated Jul 14, 2013
Gardening is about more than plants.
Four Ages of a Gardener
As a child, I cherished my secret corner
looked for four-leaf clovers opening,
picked my rare and precious treasures
preserved their fragile forms in books.
In my teens, I loved nasturtiums:
flash of vibrant red and orange
frill and flounce of cancan skirts.
I watched the bees probe for nectar.
As a woman, I grew courgette plants
in plots of dark, composted earth.
I searched as yellow flowers faded
for ripening fruit, swollen, succulent.
In old age, I walk my sunlit garden
gather armfuls of dazzling arum lilies,
white robes clean amongst verdure,
graceful and austere as guardian angels.
