I haunt the grassy ways,
calm channels through the garden isles’ blaze.
All riotous and perfume-laden, prone
with balanced stands of restful monotone.
The border path, a streaming, winding maze
in contrast with the blossoms massing lush –
while some discreetly blush.
I’m carried ever on.
This flower furnished, sumptuous salon
has mythic dryads always out of reach,
who beckon, arms translucent. They beseech
with visions all around me and beyond.
Intoxicating wonderland of peace,
your gift is my release.
An insect polka sings
of butterflies with tissue paper wings,
and lavender gives silent mauve applause,
while hybrids shout, ignoring nature’s laws.
A warm and glowing touch, the sunlight brings
me comfort. Here, enclosed in tender wrap,
relaxed in Eden’s lap.