Emigration (2)

I was in an English garden,
riotous growths, pathways plunging
through greenness thick
as long, tousled young hair.

I am in a French garden now;
forbidden lawns,
sculpted walks;
concrete trees decorate
guarded ways,
birds of green leaves
hover tuneless.

But I still sense hissing wind
disturbing tops of well-trimmed trees;
that wild whisper hovers over;
it and I both wish for it to
return.

© 2012, Maude Larke
Also look for Maude Larke’s work in Cyclamens and Swords, Sketchbook and Doorknobs and BodyPaint.

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