You go into the garden all alone - not a human within sight - and suddenly you find yourself among the most wonderful friends. I think it's part of the magic of a garden. Let me introduce a few great friends.
How GLUM to be a centipede,
Hearing it's going to rain,
And have to put on Wellingtons,
A hundred, what a pain!
And his fifty golfing brollies,
All colours you can name,
Must quickly be unfurled and upped,
Oh really, what a bane!
And last a huge great mackintosh,
He buttons all along,
Only to hear that, once again,
The forecasts got it wrong.
A bee's moan
A bee must fly for sixty miles,
To make a pound of honey,
And though she works so terribly hard,
She's not paid any money.
Which is why you've often heard her,
Complaining to the flowers,
About how hard she has to work,
With all those flying hours.
But what she'd really like to do,
Her dream that makes her drone,
Is eat Royal Jelly, bee the Queen,
And sit, upon the throne.
The golf caddy
The caddis fly he pulls a leaf,
All day, from green to tees,
That holds small twigs of different size,
A scorecard and some peas.
He never gets a customer,
Not due to lack of holes,
It's simply that the course has hills,
Because of selfish moles
A city garden
In the middle of our city,
There's a long and lovely square,
Where all around the mellow sound,
Of birdsong fills the air.
For Ladbroke Square's a concert hall,
Where birds, unknowingly, sing for all,
So if you pass, please linger there,
And hear the song of Ladbroke Square.
The flying squad
Most beetles do, believe it or not,
Make very good detectives,
They solve all crimes in record times,
And keep insects homes protected.
They also have a flying squad,
A team of hoverflies,
That keep an eye on ladybirds,
And larvae under size.
Glow worms are frightfully cultured,
They're always off to town,
To see a play, hear opera,
Or buy expensive gowns.
So YOU might well have seen them,
Returning late at night,
Holding chic green lanterns,
That give a glowing light.
A long, long time before Spring,
About the difference between life and death,
And as far away as melancholy,
A single bird sings a single note,
That floats unseen,
The sound as small and as large as hope.
Like you our best deeds are those unknown to our selves,
Though others may love us for them,
And, dear bird,
Since more kindness is born of a quiet sense of joy,
Than from any noisy cause,
But we would love you anyway,
Hidden from our eyes but known in our hearts,
For reminding us, with a single note,
That we are the luckiest people ever to have lived,
Because we are young* and now,
And because Spring is younger still.
*Young as in the Ancient Greek saying, 'Those whom the Gods love most die young.'
Many thanks to two special people for the appreciated artwork, the insects by Gully Graham, and 'Kind bird' and 'A city garden' by Janet Allis.
Hope you liked these ...