Beneath the flowers

Squatting beneath
the flowers from heaven,
the bees seem like aircraft
the ants like elephants
They bear the weight
of enormous sorrow,
to clear the garden
for hope tomorrow.

I squat down
lower than the flowers.
They smile shining
with the city near.
Wrap myself into the long dress,
I sit down
talking to the flowers.
May love, all be beautiful.
I was under the cherry tree
year after year.

Faye Sarras teaches English and records the activities of plants from the garden to the kitchen. Dr T.P. Wilkinson writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is also the author of Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by Faye Sarras and T P Wilkinson.