'Classical Figures in a Garden' by A. Zoffoli ‘The Garden Guest’ and Other Poetry by Lorna Davis The Society August 25, 2016 Beauty, Poetry 4 Comments The Garden Guest Gaia has entered my garden today, She moves with a rustling of leaves. I can see her pass where the branches sway, I can feel her breath on the breeze. She laughs in the splashing of water, And she sings in the hawk’s plaintive cry, And as Mother, she comforts her daughter In the hush of a dove’s lullaby. Her presence is rich in the garden today, Like the heady perfumes of her flowers, As they lift their delicate faces to pray In the beams of sunlit bowers. And her trees have become a cathedral, As their trunks, in a grey-marbled hue, Become pillars and arches primeval Reaching up toward a ceiling of blue. And the garden has shown its true owner today, For I am but the gardener and guest. When my Visit has ended I’ll go on my way Knowing well that this world has been blessed. Songs of a Day As I muddle my way through a regular day, And my feeling of weariness grows, I am riddled with blue in an indigo hue And a dark fog around me that shows. But my garden is where I can work in fresh air, And my blues turn a rosier shade; As I clip and I rake, with each breath that I take, All that dullness inside starts to fade. And the song of my heart bubbles up like a spring, And my shadows are lifted and lightly take wing. As my body starts swaying, I quietly sing And I feel a connectedness to everything… At the dimming of day, as I’m tapping away At the keyboard that sits on my desk, I am caught by the sight of the setting sun’s light And a view that is quite picturesque. In that moment I find there’s no work in my mind, Just the view that is waiting outside, And I’m crossing the floor to the sliding glass door, And I eagerly open it wide. And the song of my soul rushes in on the breeze Like the rippling of water and wind in the trees, And it cleanses my mind as it fills me with ease Rising up from the ground through my feet and my knees… So I head up the hill with a need to fulfill, To see more of this glorious sky, With its crimson and pink, and that spun glass I think Must be cirrus clouds streaming up high. When I get to the top I turn ‘round and I stop, Stricken dumb by the beauty I see: Lilac hills touched with green, and a gold sun between Slipping into a molten-glass sea. And the songs of my ancestors hum in my bones, With sharp clapping rhythms and resonant tones, With high ululations and deep-throated moans That sing to the sky and the trees and the stones… Strolling back to my house, insignificant mouse That I am on this marvelous world, I am blessed with the sight, as we all are each night, Of the stars and the darkness unfurled. As cerulean blue turns a deep midnight hue, I can seek out our faithful north star, And as diamonds are spread in the bowl overhead, I am struck by how lucky we are. And the song of the universe tumbles through space Full of beauty and power, rhythm and grace, And the light is its voice as it sings through each place And it spills from the sky to my uplifted face… As this day finds its end, I must ponder again All that glumness I felt at its start, And how rarely we see all this real majesty That can fill and restore every heart. And this earth, oh this Earth! The bright world of our birth Is a miracle in every way. As contentment runs deep, I am lulled into sleep By the lingering songs of the day. Lorna Davis is a poet who is happily retired and living in California. NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 4 Responses Kathy F. August 28, 2016 These poems are lovely! Reply Lorna Davis September 15, 2016 Thank you, Kathy! Reply Joan Carol Fullmore March 15, 2017 I just read your SONGS OF A DAY for the first time this morning – it was published in a paper I picked up last evening – The Epoch Times. I had never seen this publication before. This poem is a feast for the eyes ears and soul. Read aloud it actually changes one’s chemistry and fills each pore with gratitude. This is truly a Masterpiece. Bravo!!! I write poetry too that rhymes and was beginning to think it was a joy of the past. I retired from corporate America 12 years ago to full time care for my now 95 years young mother. Caring for her has inspired many of my poems for sure! 🙂 Reply Lorna Davis March 17, 2017 Thank you so much, Joan. It was so kind of you to take the time to come here and let me know that you liked my poem. I’m delighted that you enjoyed it. Best wishes to you and your mother. 🙂 Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. 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