Walking in Jane's garden ...

Walking in Jane's Garden

Jane shows me round her garden -

I'm far away from my world of care -

There are the olive trees, she says - Look, there are the orange trees -

I can smell wood smoke in the early morning air -

I can look upon the mountains, with their firs and firebreaks -

I can see the sky is the palest, faintest, blue

I know that down in the valley is the ragged village,

With its tea gardens, jandarma and forge -

The roads are potholed, full of dust, or brimming with floodwater after rain -

 I've seen old men, with dark brown, archaic, faces -

Old women, bent double, under burdens of oak tree branches for their goats -

I've met the village headsman, the mukhtar, so positive and energetic -

Ken, rightly, says he looks like Darren from "Bewitched" -

I  watched it while my mum made me beans on toast, a world ago -

- Jane, when I'm with you in this garden,

Far away from my world of care,

I'm no longer a man cast out of ash -

I can feel every moment like a wonderful story -

I can feel every past happiness and sadness, with no regret or wounding -

I can see your story, too -

Your story shines in the air -

Like the leaves of your olives - silvery grey - beautiful -

Each one perfect - responding to the wind, turning to the sun