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| Suzy Hazelwood |
The Garden Beyond
The gate creaks open like an old violin bowing
a song only morning dew remembers.
Wrought iron vines curl like sleeping serpents
guarding the hush of hidden bloom.
Beyond, the path spills like silk unraveling in a breeze
across grass trimmed with scissors of silence.
Roses unfold like whispered prayers
shared between shy lovers in the shade.
A willow sways like a dreaming maiden,
her arms trailing perfume on the breeze.
The air is honeyed, thick as cathedral light
through stained glass petals.
Lilies rise like prayers from moss-damp earth,
and bees hum like monks in soft devotion.
Every step is a breath held,
every turn a painted pause.
And the gate behind me,
shuts with the breath of a story
that’s just begun.
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| Peter A. Witt |
Peter A. Witt is a Texas poet and a recovering academic who lost his adjectives in the doldrums of academic writing. Poetry has helped him recover his ability to see and describe the inner and outer world he inhabits. His work has been twice nominated for the Best of the Net award. He also writes family history and is an avid birder and wildlife photographer. |
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