In this dark month,
Embroideries I made in a younger time,
for a different project,
are cut and re-arranged into a garden,
This new work is round and bright
and fragile and soft.
Stitching it, making it
helps me to accept the winter coming
and my ageing
I have been stitching new circles
one after the other.
Bowls of silence. (Rumi's words)
under the blue sky my clock-faced flowerbeds reflect the orb of the sun
they never sleep
lying awake under the starry constellations, they listen to the music of time.
they chuckle, yes they chuckle
I walk in this garden holding the hands of dead friends
Old age came quickly.
Cold, cold, cold, they died so silently.
My gilly flowers, roses, violets blue,
sweet garden of varnished pleasures,
please come back next year.