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When I visit my 

grandmother's 

garden, I 

always see 

something brand 

new. 

The fishes out 

there, swim in 

water (I swear) 

that is pink 

when it ought to 

be blue!

We learn 

colors in 

Grandma's 

bright 

garden...

Skies are 

yellow;   

the sun 

may be 

blue.

Yet 

sometimes 

the places 

that once 

looked 

outrageous 

sneak back to 

their 

everyday hue.

The bees in my 

grandmother's garden 

never bother the 

children at play.

They follow their 

noses to sweet little 

roses and sip on the 

nectar all day.

Little flowers in 

Grandmother's 

garden step in line 

when she walks out 

their way.

But, as soon as 

she turns, they go 

mix with the ferns 

in a dance that will 

last half the day.

There's a desert 

in Grandmother's 

garden that she 

christened the 

Southwestern 

Queen. 

Spend an hour 

out there and 

you'll soon be 

aware of exactly 

what 

Grandmother 

means.

Grandma's 

garden is just off 

the shoreline. 

Sailors spot it 

from far and 

from near.

And we always 

invite them to 

stop for a bite 

when they moor 

near the 

Stonington pier. 

When the winter 

sends chills 

through the 

garden, there are 

times we must 

look through the 

glass. 

But as days go by  

fast, we discover 

at last that the 

need to wear 

mittens has 

passed.

As we 

watch the 

long icicles 

melting and 

imagine the 

snowflakes 

away,   we 

plant seeds 

on the sill 

and 

remember 

the thrill that 

we'll feel in 

the middle of 

May.

As we watch the long icicles melting, and welcome the 

lengthening day, we plant seeds on the sill and 

imagine the thrill that we'll feel in the middle of May.

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