[Soaring Feather]

The Old Man's Garden

The old man's garden and my back yard
are divided by a line fence.

Each Spring he plants onions, sweet peas
and green beans. When they are done yielding
their crop he pulls them and composts them in the row.

Next come the tomatoes and the black berries.
The birds beat him to the berries every year.
His grapevine needs pruning, but you see
his cataract covered eyes cannot see to prune.
And he is ninety two now, and can't string the
mesh up to protect the grapes from the birds
and squirrels.

We chat across the fence each spring,
he complains about he oak tree poisoning
his soil and casting shade on his garden.

I listen and nod my head
he said, one day to me,
"oh it's you, someone told me you were dead."


bentfeather

[laurenmarlowe]

Oh Ms. Feather, what a lovely story! Poor, sweet Old Man.

I wonder how many years he has been planting that same garden each Spring?

I'm certainly glad you're still here to tell the story!

[HopeandGlory]

Gardening still at Ninety two,
and still going strong,
prefering to wear out, not rust, that
surely can't be wrong.

His life still has purpose,
even tho' eyes are dim,
his garden's still important to him,
tho' his vines he cannot trim.

Visiting with neighbours,
are some of lifes true joys,
sharing Gods bounty across the fence,
our faith in men doth restore.

rim 8/29/05

Good evening Miss Feather . . .I really enjoyed your story and it has inspired this poem in return.

Goodnight everyone . . .see you tomorrow.

[La Enchiladita]

That was quite the punchline..!! There's nothing like sharing the joys and tribulations of gardening. I'm so glad he can still garden at 92! Thanks, feathery one.