Leaving a Little Front Garden

A little front garden, bounded by a curved stone wallon the corner of a lonning.A little garden from where its custodians can seethe derelict farmhouse and know its history,the Solway Firth, blood orange sunsets.Where we buried a Border Collie one eveningin a travelling trunk, with grave goodsbefitting a Cumbrian king.A front garden alive with social butterflies,with song and buzz and bumble.A garden that tells you who its people are.*One day, someone might pave this little front garden overfor a motor car.We might find ourselves wandering in another garden,wondering how this one is faring.Remembering the year the wall belongedto the wee red stoat.All those summers we couldn’t resist burying our nosesin the magenta rose.Oh! that chap who couldn’t bearthat we let creeping buttercup creep.*A little front garden.A little garden.A front garden.A garden.Before We Leave with Bee Lilyjones and Friends is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit beelilyjones.substack.com/subscribe