talamh

threadbare flowery armchairs
dustbins of rice, wheat
and rows of vegetables
patiently waiting to be eaten.

two soggy dogs;
one frantic, one arthritic,  
and two wild wee children
with open imaginations.

little jack liked to hit
me on the head with his lego lid,
and roisin requested story after story,
until my narrative powers were exhausted.

there was one smiling, sweet-singing
expert wood-chopper, one hippy-fawn
housefather, with tail-like locks of knots
creeping down to the floor.

one artist, an apocolypitic-zine-creator,
one mother nature ... one father nature.
one liverpudlian lovely, ex-dancing
kundalini yoga, i ching enthusiast.

it breathes and creeks,
sowing seeds of active social change
for fifteen hours a week
(it's in the agreement that is!)

i learned to dig up potatoes
without breaking the skin
and fell in love with the yellow
buds of the courgette plant.

we drank fresh cammomile and peppermint
but no cows came home to a vegetarian household.
pulled weeds from strangling beds
of endless veg,

and when i needed a red onion for tea,
someone said "i'll just go get one from the garden, ey..."
surrounded by aged hippies, anarchists and activists,
folk from into the wild with nicknames like 'digger'.

i felt whole stinking of wet mud and wood smoke,
watching children play wearing only sparkly waistcoats!
whilst we picked wild strawberries,
her doll snatched white clouds from the sky
and used them for brainpower,

in this place pigeons learned to talk
so that they could join the circus,
and marigold the orange monkey
was in a fable with colour envy.

like cups of tea, much can be harmonised
by scottish raspberries, toasted oats and honey!