.....through the garden gate

There is a garden that waits behind a gate that isn’t there. Where the Roses smother the yard and crawl over arbors and walls. Where the Rosemary and Lavender grow and a tall Maple shades an old worn out bench covered in red and orange leaves.

Through the gate, a frail spray of fragrance cloaks the air, and smudges of sunlight trickle through the Birch tree that lives in sanctuary there.

A drizzle of rain has come to visit and fills the Birdbath. A Fairy dances in a swarm of Fox Gloves, and an Angel prays in a thicket of Wood Ferns.

From the Mud Room, a Gargoyle guards it's savoring view of tranquility, while the potted Geraniums acquiesce to abandon as the mist of a new dawn hides behind the gate that isn’t there............yet