Maggie and Me

Among the plants an encounter:

Black-speckled feathers hopped

Into view and paused to hear

The sound of person down below

Chatting to tree and bush.


This day it was maggie and me

Who stared at each other across

The path your cool appraisal’s

Look of trust knowing I would not

Start or move in suddenness


But look away, remembering Frost.

“Two look at two.” It was you

I met one winter’s day with book

In hand instead of spade and

Understood that turning page


Would take me further to somewhere

Else. That now I stand on solid

Ground where maggie lived and I

Have found the call of line that formed

My heart, waiting for garden all this time.



Copyrighted by the author


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