My Garden

These poems are about my garden, it is not very big but it’s enough for me to care for. I like nothing better than sitting outside enjoying the sights and sounds of nature, and when it gets a little chilly I wrap myself in a blanket and remain there. I have a green house where I grow some plants from seed others I buy and I prefer a natural display of colour not too regimented.

The Garden

I can see the garden from my chair.
It needs my tender loving care.
I’ll be out there very soon,
To tidy up, weed and prune.
Water feed and mow the lawn.
Till it looks good from the crack of dawn
Dig out the daisies dandelions and dock.
Buy fresh plants to build up the stock.
As through the winter it’s seen some strife,
But I’ll bring the garden back to life.
Now springs arrived it will revive.
And fill with colour, come alive.
The garden is kept simple, assorted trees and shrubs,
Marigolds Geraniums in chubby wooden tubs.
The borders add a seasonal delight.
The garden faces south so it’s always filled with light.
The sunsets very special, I enjoy the evening sky .
I am so grateful for this pleasure. it’s a sight you could not buy.
Val Cook 1999

The Birds

A flock of birds visit my garden each day.
Some are cocky and like to display.
Others are shy and stay on the fringe
As my garden is plundered by big birds who binge
On the seeds and nuts put out for them all.
These birds descend swiftly and have a ball.
Then quickly are gone after eating their fill,
Until their return my garden is quiet and still.
Val Cook 1999


The Little Birds

When dawn arrives the day begins.
Birds sing in competition but no one wins.
Their cheerful greeting to the world
Entices the dew damp buds to unfurl.
Then they hop and jump around the lawn,
As we rise and yawn to face the dawn.
They listen, stop then dig up worms,
A tasty breakfast that fights and squirms.
Easter time the birds build their nest.
To make it safe and strong is their quest.
The thrush is soon the busiest seen.
Weaving in twigs and leaves brown and green.
Two Magpies nesting in the Silver Birch.
Are hopping cautiously from perch to perch,
Delivering material for their nest on high.
Black wings flapping as they sweep the sky.
One waits by the nest patiently for it’s mate
To preen and fuss the nest they create.
One quickly returns with hay and twig
As they finish the nest they dance a jig.
A pair of Doves call from high in the sky
Their delicate beauty catches our eye.
They drop to the ground amidst others who
Are eating the remains of our BBQ.
Their cooing song adds a mellow sound
Compared to other birdsongs around.
They perch together in peace accord
Two beautiful images that praise the lord.
Val Cook 1999

Trees

Just outside my window
Four trees hang heavily with May blossom.
The Lilac full of beautiful white plumes that
Fills the night air with sweet perfume.
The Cherry, now losing most of it’s colour
To the winds, that springs up unexpected and
Cover the lawn in a carpet of tiny pink flowers.
My Apple tree though not yet in full bloom,
Showing frothy white blossoms that soon will bear fruit.
And the Crab Apple, laden with blossom of deep red,
Which will in turn be berries for the birds.
Squirrels chase around checking on their hidden stores
And the birds build nests and sing.
The garden is alive again its Spring.
Val Cook 1999

Ode To A Tree

Oh give me what I need for life,
The sun the rain and good mother earth.
Plant me where I will be content
Undisturbed free of stress from birth.
And I will repay you with endless joy and pleasure.


March Winds

Wet and windy, cold and dark,
The howling wind soon finds it’s mark.
Coats and collars clutched up tight,
People huddle together against the night.
Rain bounces down they start to run,
The March Wind blows it’s having fun.
Trees shiver and shake bows break
Fragile dry leaves finally forsake
Their hold on life then flutter
To join the dead leaves in the gutter.
Where litter, leaves and outcasts roam,
While others hurry by heading for home.
Nothing is heard except the wind groaning.
Barren trees bend their bows moaning.
In protest of the endless motion,
Of the wind which like a restless ocean,
Sends gusts rolling, as if waves never ceasing.
The wind dies down and then increasing,
Blows harder and faster without releasing
It’s hold on everyone in the streets.
Greeting by blowing away all that it meets.
A bird sit swaying high in a tree
Let’s loose it’s grip, now flying free
It swoops high over housetops.
Into the night, till it suddenly drops
And land daintily in the street.
Hurriedly looking for something to eat.
The wind dies down and the sun comes out.
People smile for a while but have no doubt.
The March Wind will return with force,
For the month of March must run it’s course.
April follows with refreshing showers,
The welcome rain that brings the flowers.
Taking us out of Winter into Spring,
A season that time will always bring.
Val Cook 1997

Days of Spring

The sun’s warm rays heat the earth,
Where plants and flowers have their berth.
During winter they lie asleep.
To enjoy this warmth some faces peep.
Slowly, shoots show their heads,
Pushing through their winter beds.
Green shoots reach for the sky.
Whilst others will wither and die.
Trees fill with buds, turn green.
Fields and hedgerows change the scene.
Snowdrops, Daffodils, Tulips and Primroses,
Colourful gardens display annual posies
Clusters of yellow Daffodils standing proud,
Clear blue skies without a cloud.
The scent of blossom fills the air,
The Lilac’s scent is strong and rare.
Easter is a time for growing,
A time for gardeners to be sowing
Seeds that will soon be flowers.
Giving pleasure for hours and hours.
Val Cook 1998

Springtime

Spring flowers holds high their heads.
Awakening from their winter bed.
To feel the sun’s sweet embrace
Fall upon their upturned face.
They twist and turn from left to right.
Seeking out the brightest light.
Warmth and light comes from the sun.
Good for flowers and everyone.
Give to nature what it needs
Attention to her tiny seeds.
That pays back a hundred fold.
Much more precious than a pot of gold.
Gods creations need illumination
And essential irrigation.
We all need water or we die
And nourishment as time goes by.
Let others enjoy your labour,
Give some cuttings to a neighbour.
Spread your blessings see them grow,
Tend the garden weed and hoe.
It will give you hours of pleasure.
Hours that you will always treasure.
Val Cook 1996

Montana in the USA is where the Aspen Trees grow .
I love their shiny bark and silver leaves that reminds
me so much of the Birch tree. When planted in a group
I have been told that their roots are so intermingle
underground that they share nourishment and water.


The Aspen Tree

Delicate yet strong is the Aspen tree
Growing high on the mountains in serenity.
As the wind through her branches flutter
Leaves like silver medallions mutter;
To herald the change in the season
Preparing us for winter, is the reason.
Even in winter`s cold embrace
The naked limbs draped in snowy lace
Stand proud; patiently waiting
Quietly anticipating .
Warm spring sunshine to stimulate
The new leaves that we appreciate;
And gentle summer breezes soon
Will have them dancing to its tune.

Wind

All around me the trees are swaying
Back and forwards, dancing playing
To the music that they alone can hear.
One tree reacts to the atmosphere
As other trees watch and wait;
Hoping that they too can create
A dance as good as they have seen,
When the wind is blowing through leaves of green.
Then one by one the wind gives them a turn,
They dance and sway and gradually learn
To polka and waltz like the best,
Then slowly settle down and rest.
As others leap in and dance around
Catching the rhythm but making no sound.
Then the wind continues on his way
Leaving the trees with a gentle sway.