Quadrennial Garden

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 My perennial garden blooms in the fall
and it paints with all pigments ’til May.
Like classes of crayons, stalks spring in elevens,
in different formations to sway.
The best of the blossoms, more evenly spaced,
occupy the highest of beds.
As soon as one’s picked, it’s always replaced,
except where the yellows turn reds,
Late in the season, for nature’s own reason,
the colours start fading away
until there’s just one, stands alone in the sun,
we call “Champion”, just for the day.
Every fourth year, strange new flowers appear
after the Champion’s crowned.
Gardeners visit to share the ‘what is it’
makes such wonders thrive in their ground.
This year’s the fourth and, for what it’s worth,
I plan, in my chair, to attend;
there, in the garden, distractions to pardon,
where, perhaps, I may meet an old friend.


Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/quadrennial-garden/