Casual Garden

Casual Garden



I keep a casual garden

burnt in places, lush by

the climbing trees.

When in despair,

I examine the corners of that garden,

pluck the dangerous weeds.

I scrub the birdbath

and fill it with fresh cold water

placing stones as platforms

for the bees and small birds.

This garden is my favourite place to walk,

small, but with hidden nooks

and a seat for solitude.


It took years of tending to get to this place.

A once-thought cursed corner is now deep green

with violet hues and the perfect shade.

Still there is more to tend 

as it is ever changing. Birds come,

leave their droppings and kill

what can be restored.

Squirrels explore, dig holes, preparing for winter.

Raccoons work their nocturnal havoc –

birdbath on its side, flipped steppingstones – evidence

of their hunting for grubs.


The sounds when the neighbours

are sleeping or away

are best. The smells are perfect

of marigolds on the deck and the rain.


There is an animal graveyard in my garden –

a place in front of two tall trees.

My mother says this garden is beautiful

and she would know.

I rejoice in its poetry.

Everything wants to live,

expand, overflow in this garden.


When I forget God loves me,

I look at my garden,

I step onto its bumpy terrain

and know I am one –

joined to its hallowed ground.




Copyright © 2022 by Allison Grayhurst



First published in “Synchronized Chaos” May 2022



You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

Leave a Reply