Sprawled out
like a fat man in a tub.
Swaying fountains of verdure in the wind,
wibble-wobbling out of the ground, gently.
Taking shape
in shaggy shocks of green,
leafy locks that stream, and stream.
Pitter-patters on an emerald scale of notes.
Rippling with secrets
whispered through your plumes.
Here, a resting wood pigeon rests,
there, a nesting stock dove nests.
Look!
A constellation of twinkling berries.
Plump purple pendulums,
promises so tart and sweet, they squeal.
Hopeful arbor
seen through cross-hatched windows
embraced by a concrete quadrangle.
The only free inmate here.
01/10/08
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