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Open Features: Night Imagery

Betty McKay writes of the joy that the peace of a garden bestows.

It is a blue door that needs no key.
Beyond this door my garden lies.
I lift the latch and there before me see
Beauty blanched soft beneath moonlit skies.

By flower canopied pergola I pause
To touch the columbine and smell a rose.
And tears rush to my eyes - that have no cause
Save joy for the peace this garden bestows.

A stalking tiger, my little cat pads the grass.
Then, sharp and clear within the trees, a night owl calls.
Sadly I realise my midnight reverie must pass
For now a cloud obscures the moon and darkness falls.

I wake to bleak mid-winter's morning chill
Which strikes cold on sleep-warm fingers.
How strange a dream, for fragrant on my pillow still,
The honeyed scent of Jasmine softly lingers.

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