I love the thriving mosses,
And all the fallen leaves.
I love the fruiting mushrooms,
And all the stubborn weeds.
I love the hardy Ivy,
And Brambles routing deep.
I love the little toad road,
The branches on the heap.
I love the lush Lavender
And how it blocks the way.
I love the tree that buds late,
And the Bluebells every May.
I love the Trailing Willow,
The Rosemary, Chives, and Sage.
I love the Creeping Thistles
At every single stage.
I love to see my garden
In wilder shades of green.
I know some can’t quite see it
But
It’s beautifully pristine.
-Essie Parker Walsh
Tag: rhyming
Little Bird.
At the darkest time of the year
What joy to find you perching here
Upon the bare and sleeping oak
A merry song, a shim’ring cloak
To warm me in the harsh steel-grey
Of winter’s night and winter’s day
I’ll go with lighter step and mind
And leave my heaviness behind.
What a pleasure to hear your song
Up in the trees all winter long
-Essie Parker Walsh
Essie P.W 