Poetry - The Garden is Always Open

The Garden is Always Open

by J. H. Talmage AKA Hoody Time, 2011 [edited: 2021]

Nothing lacks life in this garden,

Hiding at the end of a narrow, earthy tunnel.

A fork in the road at the end of this passage,

Leads one way to a watering hole,

Opposite the garden.

Fiery, red branches flow over towering stone walls,

Like waterfalls veil mossy rocks.

Life maintained through music-rich air;

Oxygen and Moody Blues.

Ivy consumes brick;

Climbing up a terrace,

Creeping towards the pond.

Coy fish mingle to the pitter-patter of an age-old fountain.

A central fire brings light to the night;

The smell of burnt cedar detectable, delicate.

Only the stars blanket this nook,

A vast ceiling of timeless chandeliers.

- jHt..

Note from the author: 

I wrote the original version of this poem in 2011 for a creative writing class at University of Cincinnati. Reading through my old work, I felt inspired to edit this work as a decade has passed, my skills have sharpened, but my love for the garden is still lush. Read the original version on Reddit r/StonerProse, and visit the garden @ The Blind Lemon, Mt. Adams, Ohio. <3