In Nesta’s Garden

White clouds, liked plumped up, fluffy pillows

Against a deep cobalt sky, look down

On yellow lilies, white Canterbury bells and

Velvety, deep red, snapdragons, basking in the sunshine.

In Nesta’s garden.


Yellow and red begonias peep from behind the leaves of overhanging Astilbe.

Broad Nasturtium leaves hide their buds, yet as shiny leaves of Camelia

Some yellow, some green, glisten and sparkle,

Even when the sun hides behind the pillows.

In Nesta’s garden.


The wind rustles the leaves of a middle-aged sycamore

As not far away a robin chick chicks.

Carnations lean and bend over the lawn,

The grass in need of a short back and sides.

In Nesta’s garden.


The old brown bench, showing signs of it’s age

And the white gritty deposits left by it’s visitors.

Roses, rock and hybrid tea and the last few Welsh poppies

Sway gently as the wind sweeps around the hedge and scattered bushes.

In Nesta’s garden.


Pendulous fuchsia blooms dance their pirouette

Against a red and purple chorus.

A variegated Hosta full of slug holes accompanied by

An upturned, empty, plastic pot labelled £6.99.

In Nesta’s garden.


Foxgloves of pink and red, cream and white.

Delphiniums with rich blue and purple florets, adjoin

An infant beech and a Pink called Dancing Queen,

Verbascum, bramble and grasses with rough tassels.

In Nesta’s garden.


Sedum seeds and succulent stems, buttercups allowed to stay

With London Pride and un-named blue flowers.

The fruits of granny’s bonnets, a palm tree, privet, ferns.

Everyone and thing is welcomed here.

In Nesta’s garden.