Roath Mill Gardens
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The trees whisper to
you in the wind.
They stretch their arms to the sun
and bend to drink the stream
like old people leaning on a wall.It's there on its own,
a silk quilt running from the wind.
Sparrows make quiet noises in the weeping willow.
A magpie squawks low over the grass.
Blackbird singing in the ginkgo tree
planted to scare off evil spirits.
Its leaves can help our memory
to keep images of the old corn mill.
The smell of cut grass,
the lemon breath of elderflowers,
wild garlic, oniony alliums,
the cork-scent of bark.
We leave this island in the ocean
of people, traffic, pollution,
a garden of colours,
nature's heart still beating.
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