I wandered through my garden, and what did I see?

A tiny wandering plant that was not supposed to be

There were six tiny berries as green as could be

Lying on the ground looking back at me.

What’s this? I said. Lifting the plant tenderly?

Why are there green berries in my garden made by me?

I sat on the ground  in wonder and looked around and saw

Although we painted this garden, it’s not our garden at all.

Its a garden that nourishes the spirit,

Its a garden that gives us pleasure,

And it’s beauty it does flaunt.

We seed many flowers, but if they rise we do not know,

I know in my garden, a gooseberry bush does grow.

That gooseberry bush got me thinking

In the garden I have little control

My mind’s picture is all I have

How little I really know,

My garden produces wonders, no colour can I fortell,

For when I think I have figured it out,

A surprise produces itself

So I bend and retreat, and adjust so I meet,

The gardens need rather than my own,

I stay opened to wonder and supply every need,

It gives me revelations al fresco.

Carolyn d Hogarth